Chapter Ten Shan

Chapter Ten

Shan

"A n Aberforth," Isaac whispered as they slipped out into the hallway, his arm linked with hers. "I figured you were planning something, but I didn't expect this."

Shan didn't respond right away, steering them past the guards and into a windowed alcove that overlooked the ocean. Only then, in the relative safety behind thick, dark curtains, did she turn to him, taking in the bags under his eyes and the exhaustion that clung to him like a heavy cloak. "I didn't expect to see you today."

"I'm sure you didn't," Isaac said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Especially as I didn't receive any notice about this meeting."

Shan focused her gaze on the curtains over his shoulder. "Oh?"

He nodded slowly. "It's very interesting, seeing that I am the one who manages the King's correspondence and schedule as Royal Blood Worker. Which I am sure you know."

"I do," Shan said, oh so softly, finally meeting his gaze. When she had called in her favors to get a meeting with the King—without the Royal Blood Worker's interference—she had expected him to be at most a little miffed. She did not expect him to look so hurt.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, taking a deep steadying breath. "You know, I'm used to it from the others. They don't like me—they don't trust me. I'm not one of them , so they undermine me every chance they get. But I expected better of you."

Shan hesitated—there wasn't a good explanation that wouldn't hurt him. And he knew her far too well to fall for any of her lies. "I had to play this one close to the chest. It was a delicate matter."

"And you didn't trust me to help you." It wasn't a question, so Shan didn't respond, and Isaac cursed under his breath. "I am hurt that you think so little of me, even if I'm not surprised."

Shan's heart ached, beating an unsteady rhythm in her chest. "It's not as if you've given me any reason to think otherwise, is it?"

Isaac reached out a hand, then dropped it—an aborted, harsh movement. "I know, Shan. But can I try?"

"Yes," Shan whispered, "but I'm not—I can't—just accept you back with open arms."

"What fools we are," Isaac said. "And I am the biggest fool of all."

"I'm not going to argue that." She smirked at him, and he laughed, a soft helpless thing. "Give it time, Isaac. Give me more time."

"As you wish," he promised.

They stood there in awkward silence, the tension between them palpable. It had broken something inside of her when he had renounced her, and she still hadn't figured out how to put herself back together. The one time she had opened herself to someone, and he had left her behind as if she meant nothing. Afterwards it had been easy to lock him out—to lock them all out. But understanding? Forgiveness? That was harder.

And Shan didn't even know where to begin.

Thankfully she could put that off till another time. The door to the King's study opened and Samuel emerged—whole and only a little bit shaken. He quickly found them standing together in the alcove, a frown on his face.

Shan arched an eyebrow at him, amused by the way he squirmed.

"Lady LeClaire," he said, executing a small, perfunctory bow. "His Majesty would like to speak with you. Privately."

"Of course." She turned and gave Isaac a curtsy. "Sir de la Cruz."

"Shan…" His expression twisted into a grimace. "Don't go getting all formal on me."

"And don't go getting too personal on me," she cautioned. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Lord Aberforth. In the meantime, Sir de la Cruz would be delighted to entertain you."

Isaac groaned. "Just volunteer me then. You haven't changed a bit, Lady LeClaire."

"He's fond of books," Shan said, helpfully, and Isaac's eyes lit up. "Maybe you can tell him about the Royal Library?"

"That's really not—" Samuel began.

"Oh, are you?" Isaac turned to him. "Maybe I can do you one better…"

Smirking, Shan whirled away from them and went to face the Eternal King.

"Close the door," the King said the very second she re-entered the study. He wasn't even looking at her—he was standing at the fireplace, staring into the glow of the witch light. It cast his features in harsh shadows, making him look even sterner. Even more dangerous.

Reminding her that the man she faced was an enemy, even if he didn't realize it yet.

The door was already closing—the Guards following their Liege's orders—trapping her in with him.

"You asked to see me, Your Majesty?"

"You're making quite a wave, Lady LeClaire." He moved to a cabinet, opening it to reveal an extensive collection of liquors. Shan's eyebrows shot up as she took in its breadth.

Blood and steel, even her reprobate brother would be impressed.

"Can I offer you a drink?" he asked. "I have… everything." He gestured at the cabinet befitting a king—of course he would have everything. A king could never be seen as lacking, not in any single thing.

"Whisky, if you please."

The King grabbed a decanter from the middle shelf and snagged a couple of glasses with his fingers. He placed them all on his desk, then poured a healthy amount into each glass. "Here you are."

She took the offered drink with unsteady fingers. He tossed his back, but she took a much smaller, more careful sip.

"It seems that I have some thanks to give," the King said, sinking into his chair and gesturing for her to do the same. "Tell me how you found him."

Shan settled in. "It started years ago. There were rumors about a child, a young boy. He had a terrible gift. He could make people do whatever he wanted. It reminded me of an old rumor about a recently dead line. But I was young myself, and rumors are fleeting things. I never learned anything more.

"I thought that was the end of it," she continued after taking another sip of her drink. It was good—strong and peaty. The burn moved through her, sharpening her. "But the rumors kept circulating. Little things, never enough. Not until recently. Samuel was caught up in that terrible murder. He slipped, used his power on a Blood Worker investigating the case."

The King arched an eyebrow. "Do I want to know how you got access to that information, young lady?"

Shan shrugged. "Most definitely, but a lady never shares her secrets."

The King smiled, a little cruelly and with far too many teeth, and poured himself another glass. "And then what? You went and dragged him here?"

"Of course not." She frowned. "I first had to make sure the rumors were true. I broke into his flat, I tasted his blood and I made him an offer. I cleaned him up and dressed him in the finest of suits and ensured he understood the magnitude of what was happening. Only then did I bring him to you."

"Well, I am very impressed." He raised his glass to her. "I see my faith in you was not misplaced."

"I didn't think you had faith in me at all," Shan said. She hid the wince that threatened to follow—she didn't know if it was the whisky or her pride that had her speaking so boldly, but from the lazy smile the King gave her it seemed that he approved of such expressions.

She carefully stored away that information, already shifting her outward demeanor. If he preferred that, she could be confident and bold. It would be a welcome change from the normal roles she played. Soft. Shy. Demure. It was closer to the real woman who hid behind the mask, and, as much as she feared and hated the Eternal King, this was the closest she had been to being herself in a long time.

"I've been watching you since you were a child," the King said. "I've had a vested interest in your family. Do you know what your father did for me once?"

Her throat tightened, but she managed to get out two words. "I do."

He inclined his head. "I had high hopes for him. He was clever, like you. He was a talented Blood Worker, also like you. But he lacked strength and conviction." He sighed. "I tried to bring him into the fold, to hone his mind and his ability to see patterns into something useful for Aeravin. But it is a delicate business, sorting truth from lies. Using that information to control people. I rarely make mistakes, but in this I was wrong. Your father was ill-suited for the work."

Shan clenched her glass, holding it so hard that it left indents on her skin. It wasn't that he had been merely ill-suited . That made it sound as if he had performed poorly—but he hadn't. He had been terribly gifted at his work, until something in him shattered and he saw enemies everywhere. Then he turned on allies, friends, the very hand that fed him.

Even his own home.

She could never know what her life would have been like if her father hadn't been recruited by the King. It could have been the same. Blood and steel, it could have been worse.

But what if it had been better? What if he had been kinder?

She couldn't think about this now—not here. Not in front of him. "He was," she said, because she had to. Because it was a version of the truth.

"Now I'm thinking that I pulled from the family too soon." The King leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied her. "I should have waited a generation."

Her mouth went dry. "Are you suggesting—"

He held up his hand, interrupting her. "You have great instincts for this work. And this was a hell of an audition, girl. But one does not simply become a master of spies and information on a lark. It is hard work, it is taxing work, and I do not intend to make the same mistake twice."

Shan held back her smile—of course he didn't suspect the truth. Even in doing all this, no one would assume that she—young, demure, disgraced Shan LeClaire—would be the Sparrow. And having that up on the Eternal King gave her power. "What if I am interested?"

The King smiled again, and she had to fight the chills that ran down her spine. "I thought as much. You're a bright girl, Shan. You don't need me to tell you that. Continue to do what you're doing and we'll see how things go. But for now, I need you to look after Samuel for me. He said you have a room for him."

"Naturally." She drew up her shoulders. "He was evicted; besides, he needs to learn how to live among us."

"Yes, I heard that little fact." His eyes glinted, and Shan suddenly feared for those who had made Samuel's life even the slightest bit difficult. "I need to ask a favor of you. Help him get acclimatized. Learn who to befriend and who not to."

"I can do that," Shan said, then pushed forward. "But what's in it for me?"

He threw his head back and laughed. "There is the boldness your father lacked! Oh, I like you, LeClaire." Spreading his hands, he gestured to encompass the entirety of the room. "Think of it this way. Samuel is of my blood. I will be supporting him and his ascension to Lord. By tying yourself to Samuel—"

"I'll be tying myself to you," Shan interrupted. "I'll have your support as well as his, and it'll be a much-needed boost to the LeClaire reputation." She knocked back the rest of her drink. "And all that is well and good, but I want more."

Intrigued, he leaned back in his chair and gestured for her to continue.

"I've heard the rumors; I've tasted his blood—I know what he is. But more than that, I've seen the kindness in his soul and the fragility in his heart. Whatever your plans are with him, I can help. I've already got him in my grasp."

The King's gaze was sharp. "Gladly. It would be a good way to test you, after all."

"I won't let you down," Shan vowed.

"I don't expect you to. You know what happens to those who earn my displeasure." He let the words settle over her, hanging between them with all the weight of the threat—of the promise—that they were. "Now, run along. I have to see to the Aberforth accounts."

Shan stood gracefully, her movements precise and stable despite the sudden injection of fear to her veins. "Good day."

He nodded at her. "Good day, Lady LeClaire."

She showed herself out, the King already returning to his work. She held her head high, savoring the victory she had earned. She had faced the Eternal King, had bartered and bargained with him, and had emerged with his blessing.

And a most terrible threat, but she wouldn't think of that now.