Chapter Thirty-Five Samuel

Chapter Thirty-Five

Samuel

"A re you sure we should be doing this?" Samuel asked, looking up at the building in front of them. It had taken him a moment to realize what was throwing him off—it wasn't a townhouse, like the Aberforth or LeClaire home. Instead, it was a building full of flats to rent. It was, admittedly, far more secured and updated than where he had grown up, and the neighborhood was solidly in the respectable category, but it wasn't what he had been expecting.

Not for the home of Aeravin's Royal Blood Worker.

"I'm sure," Shan said, lifting her skirts as she climbed the short set of stairs to the door. "We can't… I can't just let him wonder."

Samuel understood that much, at least. Isaac had been on his mind all day, that horrified look on his face when he realized that they were there, in the dungeons where he harvested blood for the King. So when Shan told him that she was going to visit Isaac, Samuel knew that he had to accompany her.

He followed her into the tenant house—it was simple, clean, and well-maintained—and up to the second floor, where she knocked soundly on the door. It was clear that she had been here before, that she was comfortable being here, and Samuel swallowed the questions on his tongue.

Now was not the time for that.

The door opened slowly, just a crack at first, before widening to reveal Isaac. He looked even worse than usual—the bags under his eyes as dark as bruises, and his beard was a mess, as if he hadn't been bothering to shave.

"I didn't expect you to come," he said, after a long silence.

"Did you really think we'd abandon you?" Shan asked, and the way Isaac glanced away broke Samuel's heart.

Yes, he had thought that.

"Can we come in?" Samuel asked, softly, and Isaac considered it for a moment.

Instead of responding, he produced a small dagger from his waistband and slashed his thumb open. He pressed the bleeding wound against the air in the space where the door would normally be, and Samuel watched as something shimmered and shattered before him.

Another blood ward—so subtle that he hadn't been able to pick up on it, not without Blood Working himself.

But he entered anyway, a burst of static running over his skin as he passed through the doorway, Shan on his heels. The rooms were small but cozy—the furniture the kind of old that felt more lived in than decrepit, with scuff marks on the corners and faded upholstery. It was a living room and kitchen and dining room all in one—open and bright and clean. Overflowing bookshelves lined the south wall, and there were a couple of doors along the north wall, no doubt leading to the bedroom and washroom. But most striking were the wide windows along the east wall, thrown open and letting in the soft light of the moon and a cool breeze off the sea.

Everything about the rooms suggested that it was not merely a place to live, but a home, and Samuel found himself instinctively relaxing.

"It's not what I expected," Samuel said.

Isaac tensed, stopping where he was putting a kettle on the stove. "I know it's not much. Especially compared to your townhouses. But it's plenty comfortable for one person, and this way I don't have to hire live-in servants."

"I wasn't judging you, Isaac," Samuel said, gently. "Honestly, this seems ideal."

Isaac tilted his head to the side, really studying him. "You mean that, don't you?"

"Of course he does," Shan said with a laugh, grabbing a teapot and mugs off a shelf. "Our Samuel is a simple man, and there is nothing wrong with that."

Samuel couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine at that, at being called theirs , but shoved it aside. "Let us help you, Isaac. You've had a long day."

After a moment's deliberation, Isaac stepped aside, sliding over to the table as he let them take over the tea preparations. Shan bustled about with the tea itself, filling the teapot from a small tin she found, and Samuel scrounged up some sugar and milk from the warded ice box while the kettle boiled.

Eventually, the kettle shrieked, and Samuel grabbed the handle and brought it over to the table, filling the pot and watching the leaves rise and swirl. "There. Everything is better with tea."

Isaac looked up at him, his dark eyes sad. Hells, now that Samuel was looking closer at him, he realized that Isaac was a wreck, falling apart before his very eyes. "I think this might be more than even tea can fix."

Shan reached across the table, taking his hand in hers. "You don't have to explain anything to us. We understand that you're in an impossible position."

"Impossible," Isaac echoed, low and bitter. "You don't know the half of it."

Samuel caught Shan's eye, his brow furrowed, but turned his attention back to Isaac. "Try us then."

Isaac pulled his hand from Shan's, settling them in his lap. "I don't think I can."

"Can't?" Samuel asked, "Or won't?"

It earned a small smile from Isaac. "Can't."

"Because you think you'll lose us?" Shan pressed, and Isaac glanced at her. "Because that won't happen."

"You seem so sure," Isaac whispered, "but you have no idea what I've done." He ran a hand over his face. "I never intended for you to find out, not like this."

"How then?" Shan asked.

"It doesn't matter now," Isaac said with a shrug. "You both know. Did he tell you his theory, then? Is that why you're here? To protect me?"

"Yes," Samuel admitted. "And because we care."

"You shouldn't." Isaac pushed away from the table. "And I can take care of myself. I have wards in place, I'm being careful. I'm sure you should be focusing on… finding this murderer." He spat the word, and Shan leaned forward.

"Do you not want them found?"

"Yes. No." He ran his hands through his hair, a manic, frantic motion. "It's just… what they did. What I've done. It's monstrous. Can we really—"

Samuel stepped forward, seizing Isaac's hand and pulling him to a stop. He rubbed gentle circles against his wrists, trying to soothe him. "They had a choice. You didn't. Besides—whoever is killing them, it isn't justice. It's…"

"Murder," Shan said. "Terror. It is just causing trouble in the streets, and it won't solve anything."

Isaac sucked in a harsh breath. "And yet, if they hadn't done… this, you never would know the truth." He started to shake. "No one knows the truth ."

Shan looked away, conflicted. "That is… fair. But this isn't the solution. It's what the House of Lords is for. We can change the laws, add in additional protections—"

Isaac laughed, a cruel, cold thing. "You don't really believe that, do you? The House of Lords have no idea this exists, not even the Royal Council knows. It's just between the Eternal King, the Royal Blood Worker and what few necessary staff he deems essential.

"Aeravin is broken."

"I don't believe it," Shan said, hotly. "We can fix it."

Isaac looked at her, sadly, then turned away. "I know we can't."

Shan surged to her feet, but Samuel stepped between them. "Hey. Easy."

For a moment it looked like the argument would continue, but Shan just shook her head. "I know you're hurting, Isaac. You're scared. But I will help you, I swear it. I just need to catch a murderer first." She turned, her skirts swirling around her. "I have work to do."

Samuel started after her, but Isaac's hand found his—his grip tight and desperate. "Please," he whispered. "Stay."

Shan nodded at them. "What I need to do is on my own, anyway." She lurched forward, like she was going to say something, do something, but she just turned and headed out.

Moving back to Isaac, Samuel pressed his hand against his face. "Are you going to be all right?"

Isaac just pressed against him.

"Eventually," Isaac said, so very softly.

Wrapping his arms around Isaac, Samuel held him close, hoping that this would be enough.

It would have to be enough.