Chapter Fourteen Shan

Chapter Fourteen

Shan

S han waited in the windowed alcove outside the Eternal King's study, smoothing her hands over her skirts, making sure they were free of wrinkles and blemishes. Her claws glittered in the afternoon sunlight, the silver tips shining and trimmed to sharp points. Though she wasn't going to war today, she still needed the boost of confidence that they gave her as she was summoned to face the Eternal King.

"Shan?"

Shan turned to find Samuel standing behind her, dressed in the fine suit that she had designed for him, a strained smile on his face. Laurens must have sent the final shipment along, and she hated how much the outfit suited him. Looking at him now it was almost impossible to believe there was a time he wasn't one of them.

Now he looked like a Lord, and it stirred something deep in her that she didn't want to acknowledge.

It had been such a short time since she had found Samuel, since she had transformed him into a proper young lord. A week had passed since their spat in the Aberforth townhouse, when she had let her guard down but for a moment and he had left her completely rattled. She had thrown herself into her work since, planning for his grand introduction to society, digging fruitlessly for information on these dead bodies that were appearing around Dameral, but nothing worked. He still lingered.

Around him, it was easy to forget who she was and what she was doing—and why. He had a genuine passion for goodness in him, warring with the darkness his gifts offered. But despite it all—the Aberforth Curse, the utter poverty in which he had been raised, the suffering he had endured—he was still earnest and kind. By bringing him into the courts of Dameral she had either doomed him or set him on a path that would leave him utterly and fundamentally changed.

The twisting, churning feeling in her gut wasn't guilt, surely. It was merely indigestion. It would pass. She had ruined people before and would do so again. What did it matter that he was the most innocent person to ever cross paths with her?

She lied to herself as much as she lied to the rest of the world.

Shan held out her hand, formally, as she focused her eyes on the wall behind him, dropping into a low curtsy. "Lord Aberforth."

Pain cut across his features, but he bowed in response. "Lady LeClaire." Shan thought that would be the end of it, but he stepped close so that his voice was a whisper in her ear. "I'm sorry. About what I said."

Shan uncurled her fingers one by one, several days of tension easing from her at once. "It's all right."

"It really isn't." His voice was low and soft, and Shan pretended that the shiver down her spine came from the cool breeze through the windows. "I'm not good at this. At… whatever we're doing. Fixing things. Being partners. Working with others. I'm still learning."

"Oh," she whispered, as everything clicked into place. She had been foolish to assume, hadn't she? He had spent his whole life alone, hiding from Blood Workers, from his power, trusting no one, especially not himself. It was terribly sad. Even she had her brother, Bart, her birds. She had never truly been alone.

"So, yeah." Samuel ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit that left him just a bit disheveled. It shouldn't have been attractive, but it was, and she ached to grab his hand, to teach him stillness. "We shouldn't keep the King waiting."

"Of course. I had been merely waiting for you." She followed him; her hands clasped in front of her like a proper young lady, as they stepped towards the door. The Guards acknowledged them immediately and escorted them into the study, where the King was pouring a steaming cup of tea. His desk had been cleaned off, turned into a proper tea service that had Shan blinking in surprise.

Surely the Eternal King hadn't summoned them for something as simple as tea.

"There you are. Sit, please." The King took his usual seat behind his desk, the contrast between his stern expression and the delicate cup in his hand throwing Shan off balance. "This blend with the rosehips is a favorite, as it comes from my own gardens."

"That sounds lovely," Shan said, settling gracefully into the seat at his right hand. Samuel sat directly across from her, and the King served them both. "It's a wonderful spread."

Samuel nodded in agreement, seemingly too overwhelmed to speak. His eyes were as wide as saucers as he took in the delicate and clearly expensive array of desserts in front of them—more than they could possibly need. But it would have been in poor taste if the Eternal King hadn't offered them the best and largest spread, even if most of it would go to waste.

Anything less would be a snub.

"It should be, for the amount I pay my patissier," the Eternal King said. "And, please, drink. The tea really is a favorite."

They both drank at that. It was indeed wonderful, with its soft floral flavor. It helped soothe some of the unease from her, and Samuel sighed from across the table.

"Delicious, isn't it," the King said, with a smirk. It seemed that even such a powerful man, who had lived for centuries and held such enormous power, was still pleased when his own tastes were validated. Perhaps there was just a hint of humanity in there after all. "But, unfortunately, we must get to business."

"How can we help?" Samuel asked, and Shan took the opportunity to grab a scrumptious looking apple tart.

"It's complicated," the King admitted, folding his hands in front of himself. "And I first want to thank you both for coming on such short notice. You are both clever, formidable people—discreet and trustworthy. But most importantly, you both don't have strong ties to the various factions in my court."

Shan cocked her head to the side. "And our independence makes us valuable, Your Majesty?"

"Yes." He inclined his head towards her. "As always, Lady LeClaire, you are quite astute. Let me get to the heart of it. It is about these bodies, these murders. Shan, I believe you know that a second one was found."

She didn't flinch, even though it was clear what he meant. He knew that she was at the theatre with Isaac when he had been summoned to duty. But the King wasn't looking at her, his eyes cold and distant. "He was murdered in the same exact manner as the first victim, the one that Samuel found, and left in the streets to be discovered. Dead by Blood Working, and not just any Blood Working—but used for dark and despicable experiments. The kind of magics that are illegal in Aeravin.

"I've called you here because one body is an aberration, but two is a pattern."

Samuel spoke first. "I don't understand. You want us to… what? Become private investigators?"

"It's not just that," Shan said, and the King turned towards her with a sly smile. "If it was just some random murders, he'd leave it to the Guards. It's their job. He thinks there is something more at play here."

"Very good, Lady LeClaire." The King leaned back, steepling his hands in front of him. "There is a bigger problem here than most people realize and I fear that I cannot trust my own court."

"What is it, then?" Shan asked. Trouble in the court? This was precisely the kind of thing she was looking for—an opportunity to prove her skills.

"What I am about to share cannot go beyond this room. There are many secrets about Blood Working—about its limits and its potential—that have been between me and the Royal Blood Worker for centuries. Am I understood?"

Shan met Samuel's eyes, and he looked as curious as she felt. "Yes, Your Majesty," Shan said, at the same time Samuel muttered, "Crystal clear."

For a moment it seemed the Eternal King wouldn't speak at all, but he let out a sigh. "What you know of Blood Working, Lady LeClaire, is only the beginning. It's only a fraction of the potential that is open to us—and I have worked hard to ensure that Blood Working doesn't surpass the bounds that I have set upon it. Our position, as a nation, is fraught enough. But should we realize our full potential, I fear the fragile peace I have kept for centuries will shatter."

Shan realized that she was leaning forward, gripping the armrests of her chair so hard that her claws were leaving indents in the wood. A part of her had always wondered if there was more to their gift, if there was a way to push their magic forward, but to hear it from the Eternal King's own mouth thrilled her in a way that she hadn't felt in years.

Knowledge was power, and this knowledge might be the most dangerous thing she had ever touched.

"What sort of potential?" she asked, and the King turned his eyes on her—green and burning, and she felt as if he was peeling back her soul.

"All kinds of potential," he said, his voice soft and dangerous. "We can do things to the human body, manipulate it in ways that nature never intended. We can create gods and monsters. I've spent centuries exploring this—both in theory and in practice." He looked over at Samuel. "Including when I gave my family their gifts."

Samuel shot to his feet, trembling with anger, but Shan was already moving. She rounded the desk and took Samuel's hand in hers, taking care to thread her fingers around his so that the claws did not pierce his skin, trying to ground him before he lost control.

But it was too late.

"You did this to me? To my family?" Samuel spat, the kindness bleeding from his eyes, replaced by a darkness that took Shan's breath away. When he spoke again, she could feel that power that slipped past his lips, magic that hung in the air like a cloying mist. "How could you?"

The King flinched, breathing in hard through his nose as Samuel's gift hit him. "Curiosity, mostly." He glanced up at the ceiling, as if he was trying to fight the words as they crawled up his throat. "I had already achieved so much with Blood Working and I wanted to see just how far I could push it."

Samuel snarled, and Shan moved, pressing her hands into his shoulders and forcing him to sit. Perhaps it was because he was so focused on the King, perhaps it was because she had spent years training her body as well as her magic, but he crashed into his chair. "Don't do anything you'll regret," she whispered, and she could feel the fire in him, threatening to break loose. "Let him speak."

The King smiled at her. "Thank you, LeClaire, but it's all right. I understand why he is angry." He turned his attention to Samuel, trying to smooth his expression to something like contrition. It would have been almost believable if he wasn't actively sizing up Samuel and his potential. Shan could see it in his eyes—after all, she had turned the same gaze upon so many others.

If anything, the King might regret the anger and hurt Samuel felt in this moment, but he wouldn't regret the power the Aberforths had brought to his rule. For generations there had been whispers about this, and the Aberforths had been feared and respected for it. This gift was power, and no King regretted that.

She just hoped that Samuel saw it, too.

"This wasn't my decision alone," the King said, far more collected now that Samuel's command had run its course. "The Aberforth I experimented on—Perry—he volunteered for this. He wanted it, too. He was a scholar. Blood and steel, he was the Royal Blood Worker of his time. And what he could do was nothing compared to you. It was mere suggestion, not control, that was easily broken, and it gutted his ability to use Blood Working. We wrote it off as a failure and we didn't know that it would pass to his children. I didn't know that it would grow stronger with each generation until it happened."

Samuel shrugged her off, and Shan took a step back, watching him and the King with a careful eye. After several deep breaths, Samuel finally said, "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's all right, son," the King said, and Samuel's flinch was barely perceptible. "I know that you haven't had training, that you don't have control. We'll fix that, I swear. But right now, I need your help. Both of you."

He looked to them. "I never repeated the experiment with Perry Aberforth, but that doesn't mean I have been able to hold back the flow of knowledge completely. Knowledge and theory are harmless, on their own, but in practice—in execution—there is no telling what might be done. And it seems that one of our own is determined to find out where the limits lie."

"Blood and steel," Shan swore.

"And what can be done?" Samuel asked, his voice small. He seemed to be curling in on himself, and Shan had to hold herself back from comforting him.

The King looked down, seemingly unable to meet their gaze—their judgement. It was a well-played move, and Shan couldn't have done it any better herself. Watching him was like a masterclass in manipulation, an example of what she could be with enough time and practice.

Though she would never have just as much time or practice as one who was Eternal.

"Horrible things," the King said at last. "All Blood Workers are born with a certain amount of power—some with more, some with less. But you can change that, take power from one person and transfer it to another. To turn Unblooded into Blood Workers, to turn Blood Workers into Unblooded. It's not that different, in theory, from what I do annually." He turned back to them, and despite the youthfulness of his features there was an unfathomable, ancient weight in his eyes. "And that's not even getting into the kind of experiments that created your gift, Samuel. There are so many more avenues to explore, but I don't know if what we'd create would be human in the end."

Shan looked down at Samuel, his head hung low and his hands twisting in his lap. There was a fear in him, she could taste it, and that gnawing emotion was crawling its way back into her heart.

She didn't look up as she said, "Yes. You have my aid."

There were so many reasons to assist him. This kind of knowledge, this kind of power, was dangerous, too dangerous to let out into the world. It would be an excellent opportunity to prove herself. And, of course, the simple thrill she would get from a job well done.

But as much as she loathed to admit it, the reason she had been so quick to agree was the pain of the man sitting in front of her.

"What do you want of me?" Samuel asked, taking extreme care with his words.

"That thing you just did with me?" the King said. "That is how you can be the most helpful. You have a gift—no, no, don't give me that look. I know you find it uncomfortable, but it is a boon we cannot ignore in a time like this."

"Please," Samuel whispered. "Do not ask that of me."

"But I am," the King said. "Because we do not have any other choice. We're talking the safety of our nation, of our people. I will help you, Samuel, but I need this in return."

Shan almost smiled, impressed by the way he played his hand. Quid pro quo, tit for tat. And all in the name of goodness and honor.

She wasn't surprised when Samuel sighed. "All right."

The King relaxed. "Good. Lady LeClaire, I'll have all the information I have sent to you—everything the Guard has found, everything my spies know. And, Samuel, we have work to do. We need to take this gift of yours in hand. Do either of you have any questions?"

"Can I see the bodies?" Shan asked, wrapping her claws around the back of Samuel's chair. She felt him tense, but the King just looked up at her with an arched eyebrow. "I want to examine them magically."

The King shrugged. "We can arrange that." He leaned back in his chair. "Anything else?"

"What about the Royal Blood Worker? Does he know?" Samuel asked.

"He knows about the murders, of course," the King admitted. "He is aiding in the official investigation, but he does not know about you two."

"Why aren't we helping him?"

"Because Isaac—" The King glanced at her, and Shan caught herself. "Because Sir de la Cruz is just as much of a suspect, more so than anyone else."

"Listen to her, Samuel," the King said. "Lady LeClaire knows what she is talking about. Sir de la Cruz has a thirst for knowledge unlike any I have seen in centuries—it was a large part of why I chose him as my aide. I do trust him, and I want to believe that he is loyal to the crown, but we cannot discount anything. There is a traitor in Aeravin, and you two will find them."

"I see," Samuel said, though it was clear he did not.

Shan rested her hand on his shoulder, pressing the tips of her claws into his flesh as a warning. "Do not worry, I'll be sure to catch you up on everything. The politics, the magic."

The King's smile turned lazy, almost predatory. "Good. And you'd best get started. Tomorrow de la Cruz is having his annual ball to open the Season, and Samuel—you'll be there. The time for hiding is over. Dameral should know that another Aberforth walks in their midst."

"I see," Samuel said, and the King dismissed Shan with a flick of his hand.

"Now go, Lady LeClaire. The next time I see you, I hope you will have something good to report." He turned his gaze upon Samuel. "I have a few things to discuss with Lord Aberforth."