Chapter Thirty-Four Shan

Chapter Thirty-Four

Shan

S han found Samuel outside the palace, standing amongst the rose bushes, looking utterly and totally alone. She studied him for a moment, remembering the King's warning—that she had brought her failures upon herself, a product of her own attachments and love. And though his threats still hung over her, a weight that she could not shake, as thick and ominous as a storm on a summer's day, she refused to let him dictate her life.

She reached out, taking Samuel's hand in hers, and led him to her carriage. Just having him near soothed some of the tension away, calming the panic in her mind and lifting the darkness over her soul, leaving her free to plot and plan. He had slipped into her life so easily—too easily. It had only been a few months, but he already belonged with her, and that scared her almost as much as the Eternal King's truths and threats.

But she couldn't think of that now.

Instead, she took him home, not hesitating when he invited her in for a pot of tea. He led her into his parlor, though it still felt a little unlived in, sterile and precise and far too formal for Samuel. But a maid brought them tea and refreshments, and they sat in comfortable silence as she turned everything over in her mind.

A murderer's head and peace in the kingdom. That was what she had to deliver to save her brother—and Samuel—from the harm she had put them in. They never would have attracted the King's attention if it wasn't for her. But she had interfered, setting the game into motion.

It was her responsibility to fix it.

Even if it meant turning her brother in for crimes she never thought he could commit. It would destroy what little goodness was left in her, but if Anton was the murderer she'd put him down like the rabid dog he'd become.

Samuel shifted in his seat, his arms wrapped tight around himself, and for a second she wondered if… no . That plan, the great, grand scheme of hers, was still too far out with too many pieces yet to slide into place. But given the horrors they had just witnessed together, perhaps she could reach Samuel in a way she never could before.

He noticed her watching him, and they sat there for a long moment, Shan's heart pounding as something in the air sparked between them.

"What are we doing, Shan?" he whispered, his voice as soft as a caress, and she fought the urge to lean closer. "I've given up everything that I am, become this farce of a man, and for what? I thought I knew how bad things were, but…" He closed his eyes. "Please tell me you didn't know."

"I didn't," she said, fighting back the images of the poor souls strapped to those metal tables, slowly and painfully bleeding to death. "I should have." Samuel cocked his head to the side, his gaze sharp, and for once Shan didn't let herself hide behind her lies. "I never questioned the blood. How whenever we needed it—for our magic, our healing, our training—we could simply requisition it. How even with the Blood Taxes, it shouldn't have been enough."

Their magic, great and powerful as it was, came with a terrible price. And she had ignored it, because she could, because she never had to pay it.

What a fool it made her.

Samuel slid closer, tangling their hands together. "I don't blame you for that. But you promised me that we would change things." That low fire was back in his voice, that passion and rage that had her turning towards him like a flower towards the sun. "I don't see how we can stop this."

Shan took a deep breath, the secrets heavy on her tongue. But they must be said. "There is a way," she admitted, pressing against his side, their tenuous connection the only thing grounding her.

"What way?" His pale hands flexed in his lap, the skin around his nails picked and bitten at. He couldn't stop worrying his bottom lip, turning it red and raw.

This was the chance she had been yearning for, handed to her on a silver platter. And yet she hesitated, not quite able to say it. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet."

"Figured what out?"

"Nature abhors a vacuum," Shan said. "For the longest time I wondered how far my little schemes could go. I knew what I wanted but without a proper structure in place all I would create was chaos. And as much as I'd like to watch Aeravin burn at times, the collateral damage would be too much."

She breathed out slowly, carefully, watching the minute changes as the reality of her plan washed over him. "Then I found you. You were the answer to everything—a hope that I could bring about a smooth transition and create a new Aeravin. One that wasn't led by a man who lost touch with his humanity centuries ago."

"And you think that man is me?" Samuel asked, carefully. He was clearly confused, but he was considering it, and Shan knew that was the first and most difficult step.

Now if she could only get past his morals—or hone them into a blade that she could use.

"I know nothing of politics," Samuel continued, "or bureaucracy, or how to keep a nation running."

"You know what's wrong," Shan said. "You know what the problems are, and you would care for all the citizens, not just the elite." She ran her hand along his arm, feeling him warm under her touch though there were still two layers of clothing between them. "And that's more than we have now."

He shook his head, but he didn't push her away. If anything, he leaned into her touch, craving a closeness she wanted nothing more than to give. Even though it was wrong, so terribly wrong, and she knew that she shouldn't be using this thing between them to pull him to her side, to tie him up in knots until he didn't know up from down. Until he had no choice but to follow her because there was no other option left.

But in all truth she craved this as much as he did, even if it meant it would leave her as entangled as she left him.

"It isn't right," he whispered, his hand coming over hers and removing it from his body. The touch was brief, perfunctory, but it still made her want things she didn't dare name.

"What isn't?" Had she pushed too far, been too brazen? They had only just learned the most gruesome, terrible truth of their nation after all.

"For me to be King," he said. "For anyone to be King, actually."

She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. Perhaps she ought to give him a pen and send him off to write pamphlets. "Of course you're a bleeding democrat."

"Is that a problem?" Samuel bit out. "Forgive me for not being greedy enough to fit into your plans."

"It's not about greed." Shan hung her head. "If you were greedy, if you really wanted this, then you'd end up being just as bad as the Eternal King. One monster traded for another."

His brow furrowed, confusion etched across his features, and Shan's heart ached at just how precious he looked. And here she was, hoping to destroy what was left of his innocence.

"I should want the throne," he began, "but I also shouldn't?"

"Yes," Shan said. "You should want it to make Aeravin better, fairer, safer. But not to simply empower yourself."

Samuel huffed. "You almost make me believe it, that I could do good."

"You could," Shan said. "And I'm not asking you to do it tomorrow. As dire as things might seem in the moment, that's not how it would play out. You'd have time to adjust."

He leaned back in his seat, looking at her—really looking at her. "It's strange, Shan. How much you care about me. Your brother. Isaac. But so little about what is right ."

Shan let his words roll off her, his bleeding heart bare before her cold gaze. "And you think letting the Eternal King continue his reign is the right thing to do? Perhaps we should round up a fresh batch of Unblooded for him to drain, then."

"No, of course not!" He ran his fingers through his hair, tearing at it and leaving it a confused, disheveled mess. She wanted to fix it, to run her hands over it until it was smooth again. "But removing one king to put another on the throne won't fix things, not really. Especially when that new king is me."

"Samuel," Shan said, with more calm than she thought she could manage. "We've been over this. You're a good man."

He shook his head. "Maybe. But there is a darkness in me, a hunger. I don't…" his voice broke, and it cut Shan deep. "I'm having a hard enough time resisting it now. And I don't know what I would do if I had that kind of power in my grasp."

She brushed her thumb along the back of his hand, trying to soothe away the tension. "You resist the power you were born with, don't you?"

"I try—"

"You do," she insisted. "It hurts you to use it."

He smiled a bit sadly. "That's not entirely true."

"Oh, no!" Shan widened her eyes dramatically. "Are you telling me that you've made mistakes, that you're human?" He tried to pull back, but she held him fast. "No man is an island, Samuel. Nor should anyone be. You'll have advisers, counsellors, friends to lean on."

"You're forgetting one thing," Samuel interrupted. "I'd need heirs, right? Or are you planning to have me become the next Eternal King? Watching everyone I love and care for grow old and die around me, taking every last bit of humanity with them."

Shan knew her answer already, but the hunger still rose in her. The King had lived for so long because of Blood Working. He didn't even try to hide it—he made a spectacle out of it—a murder dressed up as a sacrifice, a necessary evil to protect his nation, to give them the one thing that had allowed them to flourish for centuries.

It was so much potential, but the cost was so high.

"I wouldn't make you Eternal," she said. "I don't know if anyone should be made Eternal."

He let out a breath—a sigh, really—and Shan realized that he hadn't been sure what she'd say. How far she'd go. She didn't know if it hurt that he'd expect so little of her, or if she should be proud that he thought her so ruthless.

But there was power and there was monstrosity, and it was a fine line to walk.

"If I am not to be Eternal," Samuel continued, "then I'd need to have heirs."

"And that is a problem?" She smirked, hiding the cut of pain that went through her. If he found her unworthy now, after all that he had learned in the last twenty-four hours, after witnessing the cool and dispassionate face she had worn before the King, she frankly wouldn't blame him. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of young women vying for the role."

He did not look amused. He stood, turning away from her, as if it would somehow make all of this easier. "That's not… I mean. It's this thing. This power in me. I inherited it from my father, and my children will inherit it from me."

"Ah." The shape of his fear suddenly made sense, coalescing into the image of sweet little blond children, their every word bringing chaos and tragedy to Dameral. It was bad enough when it was Aberforths, it would be even worse if they were real princes and princesses.

"And what would happen," Samuel continued, looking utterly stricken, "if somewhere down the line, one of my descendants would be cruel. Harsh. Everything you wouldn't want in a ruler but gifted with a power that makes even Blood Working seem tame."

Shan sucked in a breath, imagining it. A crueler, harder version of Samuel—the power he would have and the damage he would inflict.

"It's better, I think, if this curse dies with me," Samuel said grimly. "I gave up the hope of having a family a long time ago. Hells, even the thought of having… someone is new. I'm sorry, Shan. I was going to tell you—and Isaac—when we had that talk. But…"

"It shouldn't have to be that way," Shan said, crossing to him. She stood too close, she knew it, but the pull between them was like a magnet. "You should have a chance at a family, if that's what you want. Besides, Isaac and I haven't given up yet."

For a second, she thought she had reached him, but then Samuel's expression turned dark, a harsh frown on his face as he studied her. "No. Please tell me this isn't what I think it is."

"Samuel?"

He wrested himself away from her, wiping his hands on his vest, as if he could remove the stain of her from his skin. "Is this what I've been to you this whole time? A way to the throne?"

"No, of course not!" Shan pursued him. "I would never—"

"You would. Don't lie to me, Shan." Samuel held out his hand, and in that moment she swore she could feel his power—just a hint of it, a taste that slipped out past his lips. But not enough to truly affect her. He held himself much too tightly for that.

It still sent a shiver down her spine.

"I meant it," she said. Taking his hand, she pressed it against her face. "I am a liar, Samuel, and a cheat, and I will do whatever it takes to reach my goals. But I will not—I cannot—do that to you."

Samuel sneered—and at that moment he looked so much like the Eternal King that Shan almost staggered back. "And why not?"

Shan searched for an answer, for one that she could bring herself to say. There were so many parts to it.

She didn't want to hurt him.

He didn't deserve it.

She wanted things with him she never dreamed she could have.

He was a good man, better than any she had ever known.

She could have said any of these things—all of these things—and it would have been the truth.

What she did say was "Because I can't."

When Samuel laughed it was the coldest thing she had ever heard from him. "I suppose that is an answer."

But it wasn't the one he wanted, or needed, and she had known it the moment she put voice to the words, could feel it in the way he closed off. "Please," she whispered, barely knowing what she was asking for. "Please believe me."

He hesitated. "I want to. But I don't know if I can. If I can trust anything in this damned city anymore."

Shan felt her heart crack. He was turning away from her—not because of the deepest, darkest parts of her soul, but because she couldn't say the words he needed to hear. Not to herself, not out loud. So she did the only thing she could do. She hoisted herself up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was different from the last one they had shared—that had been violent, harsh and full of promise.

This was soft, desperate and full of all the things she never learned how to say.

Samuel melted into her touch, his hands cupping her face. He returned her kiss with a hunger, a fervor, that had her trembling against him. She twisted her hands in his jacket, pulling him close as the kiss turned heated—teeth and tongue and so much passion that Shan felt as if she were about to burst into flames, a phoenix reborn from the ashes.

Blood and steel, she wanted .

"Shan," he gasped, against her lips, pushing her hair back from her face so that he could touch as much skin as possible. "I—"

"I know," she said, interrupting him, not wanting to hear it. Not able to hear it. She already felt as if she was teetering at the edge of an abyss from which she would never claw her way out of, and she was afraid of even the tiniest of pushes. Instead, she pressed her face into his neck, whispering words against him. "I found you with the intention of making you king, yes, but I never wanted to be your queen. I never meant for this to happen."

He drew in a deep breath, and she could feel the erratic beat of his heart against her. "I believe you, Shan. But we're here now." He wrapped his arms around her, not pulling her in for another kiss, not pushing her away, just holding her.

It was this—these little things—that he seemed to understand, that he so easily offered her. He wasn't demanding, he wasn't pushing. Though she could never bring herself to ask for this—she was raised to take, not to beg—he understood her perfectly.

He was a perfect partner in every conceivable way, except that if she were to have her way, she could never be with him. She was not meant to be a queen—she was far more powerful in the shadows.

Raising her hand to his lips, he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it, and it felt like forgiveness.

It felt like a beginning.

Her smile was a fragile, brittle thing.

"Samuel," she said, "I am entirely at your mercy. I am planning treason. Will you help me?" She waited, breathless, as he stared down at her, as he contemplated.

As he held her entire life's work in his hands.

"All right, Shan." He straightened his shoulders, steadied himself. At that moment he almost looked regal. "I'm not saying I agree to all of this. But you're right. We cannot simply do nothing. Just promise me something."

"What's that?"

"That whatever you're planning in that brilliant, clever mind of yours, you include me."

Shan sighed in relief. "All right. But I ask something in return." He arched a brow, and she barreled straight on, not giving herself a chance to stop and reconsider. Reckless, for one brief, shining moment. "If you decide to take the throne, you'll do it because you want it. Not because of me. Not because of us."

Because if he took the throne, she would lose him forever.

Something changed in his eyes then. A weight lifted from his shoulders, and his eyes grew clear. "I can promise you that, and that I am yours. That much I swear."

She pulled him in for another kiss, feeling the world shift beneath her feet, changing into something wholly new. No longer was she the chess master moving her pawns, making the decisions and gambling their fates, playing all sides and binding allies to her. This was the beginning of something new, something she had never tried before.

And for the first time, she wasn't alone.