Chapter Forty-Seven Shan

Chapter Forty-Seven

Shan

I t had been three weeks since that disastrous day, two weeks since Samuel had awoken, and the King had planned an exceptional celebration—a gala that would honor them for the work they had done.

Shan didn't think they had done much to be honored for—the killer had achieved his goals, and she had lost half of her heart for it—but the King would not be dissuaded. He had given them the date and told them when to arrive. He would handle the rest.

While the King had spent two weeks planning a ball that would put the rest of Dameral to shame, Shan had spent that time with Samuel, helping him regain his strength, teaching him the basics of Blood Working, scheming and plotting. They both knew that the King was going to do something at this ball, but none of her birds could find out what. Not that her birds were having much success of late, with the new laws that held Aeravin in a stranglehold.

So the time ticked away, and all they could do was prepare for the worst.

But the night of the ball finally arrived, and they showed up at the palace hours early, as promised. Servants ushered them apart, taking them to different dressing rooms, where the outfits the King had commissioned for them waited.

Laurens herself presented it to Shan, and Shan clasped her old friend's hands. When Laurens leaned in for a kiss on the cheek, she whispered, "Trouble is coming, Sparrow."

Shan leaned back, wishing she could do more, but she was trapped by the role the King had demanded of her. She could only squeeze Lauren's hand as she was helped into the dress, knowing that her country hung on the brink of destruction. But what could she do?

At least the dress was beautiful, unlike anything that she had ever seen—a rich silk gown the color of blood itself. It hugged her torso, bands of silk wrapping over her breasts and flowing into a loop around her neck, leaving wide swathes of skin exposed. The skirt flared out at her waist, layers of silk in various lengths that fell to the floor.

The servants styled her hair carefully, pinning it back so that it flowed like a waterfall down her back, twisting in dark curls that hung like shadows. Her eyes were lined with kohl—sharp and harsh—and her lips painted a deep red. She was beautiful and deadly, and she smiled at her reflection in the mirror. It was bolder than she would have chosen for herself, but she loved every bit of it.

"It's time," one of the serving girls muttered, and Shan followed her towards the sounds of the ball. She wasn't ushered down the stairs, right in the heart of the party like she had anticipated, but moved to a small interior balcony. "Please wait here," the serving girl instructed, then disappeared with a curtsy.

Not knowing what else to do, Shan stepped to the ledge, looking out over the ballroom beneath her. All the nobles of Aeravin had been gathered, called back from the country with an invitation that could not be ignored. But though the Eternal King had not thrown a ball on his own in centuries, all those years of inactivity hadn't dulled his skills as host. If anything, they just made him all the more intense about it. There was food and music and the tinkling of conversation—every detail precise and perfect.

Shan ached to be down there—to slip into the heart of the party, flitting from conversation to dance to conversation, drawing out useful bits of information as she captivated those around her.

But she had to wait, the time slipping past her as more guests arrived. She wrapped her hands around the banister, her ceremonial claws—dull and decorated with rubies to suggest blood without actually drawing it—tapped an incessant beat.

"Shan?"

She spun around at the sound of her name, turning to see Samuel step from the shadows into the light. Her breath caught as her eyes roved hungrily over him—she couldn't help it. If the King had been bold with her style, it was nothing compared to what he had chosen for Samuel.

He looked positively indecent, and Shan couldn't tear her gaze away.

His trousers were tight, form-fitting black breeches tucked away into leather boots. He wore no jacket, just shirtsleeves and a waistcoat, delicately embroidered red roses on a black background—the King's own royal design. Scandalously, he wore no cravat, the neck of his shirt open to bare his throat and part of his chest. His sleeves were also tucked up past his elbows, leaving his forearms bare to the touch.

His scars—still as deep and dark as the day he had received them—were proudly on display for all to see. They crossed over his hands, ran up his arms and disappeared into his sleeves. They crawled up his neck, drawing her eyes to every bob of his throat, and Shan was consumed with the ridiculous urge to put her mouth on them.

"You look lovely," he said, stepping closer. She forced her eyes to his, only to find her own hunger mirrored in his gaze.

"You look like a scandal," she muttered, and he laughed.

Turning his hands over, he rolled his wrists and studied the movements of his scars. "It will leave quite an impression, won't it?"

"It will cause a riot," she muttered, turning back to the banister. She couldn't bear to look at him—it was too much.

"I doubt that," Samuel said, coming to her side. "Your dress, though…"

She felt his gaze drop to the expanse of flesh between her breasts, laid bare for everyone to see. She could feel him against her, his blood burning hot in his veins, his power no longer dulled by his curse.

She swore that she could still feel him sometimes, an echo of the powerful connection that they had shared. Lust and longing and fear rolled off him in waves, and she wanted to press against him until all the hesitancy disappeared. But she didn't.

He was still getting used to living without the fear of his gift, as if he was afraid it was just a hoax. If he needed time, she could give him that.

Blood and steel, look at what rushing into things had earned her last time.

"There you are." The King appeared behind them, and Shan glanced over her shoulder, disappointed to see that his outfit was entirely normal. Well, it was expensive and expertly tailored—but there was nothing about it that would draw attention.

It seemed that he wanted them to be the stars of tonight's ball and made it so that all eyes would be on them.

The King beckoned them forward, directing them to stand in the center of the balcony, where he walked around them, taking in their appearances from every angle. "Good. One last thing." He snapped his fingers, and a serving girl rushed towards Samuel, carrying a box in her hands.

Samuel looked up at him, brow furrowed.

They must have pleased the King very much indeed.

The girl lifted the lid, revealing a set of claws. They weren't the decorative kind that Shan wore tonight—they were sharp and dangerous, and Samuel looked at them in fear.

"You're a Blood Worker now," the King said softly. "You've earned them." He lifted them from the box. "Hold out your hands, son."

Shan saw the flicker of something run across Samuel's expression, too quick to catalogue, but he did as he was told. The King slipped the claws over his fingertips, then secured the chain over the hand and around the wrist. Samuel held them up, flexing his hand in the light as the King arranged the other one, his green eyes narrowed in discomfort.

"Now we're ready," the King said, shooing the serving girl away. "Remain in the shadows until I say."

Shan looked at Samuel, raising her shoulder in a delicate shrug. He held out his arm, and she gratefully accepted it, falling into place behind the Eternal King as he led them off the balcony, round to a set of wide stairs that opened down into the ballroom. He held up his hand, and she held Samuel back, waiting to see what the King was doing.

The music came to a stop as the King approached the top of the stairs, and every head in the room turned to him. "My loyal subjects," he said, his voice carrying across the room. "I thank you for attending. It has been far too long since I opened my home, and I apologize for that neglect."

The people applauded, but he held up his hands, demanding silence that he was immediately granted. "But tonight is not all fun. A month ago, a rash of murders that plagued Dameral came to an end and riots erupted across the city. A state of emergency was declared and new laws were brought into being. But we have finally found peace again, stability again, and we are here to celebrate those who are responsible for returning that to us. Please welcome my last living family member, Samuel Aberforth, recently returned to us, and Lady Shan LeClaire."

He crooked his fingers behind his back, and Shan pulled Samuel forward. The crowd started whispering immediately, and this time, the King did nothing to stop them. Whether it was their presence or their appearances, Shan did not know—but she held her head high, a soft smile plastered on her face. She would not show them weakness.

"They both suffered greatly in their quest to bring in the murderer, and Lord Aberforth will forever bear the scars of it on his skin. But without them, we never would have unrooted a conspiracy in the heart of our world and Isaac de la Cruz would not have been brought to justice. For his crimes, he will be punished in a manner befitting treason, serving as an example for those who dare defy the crown. There is still work to be done, my subjects, laws to be refined and broken systems to be restored.

"But that is not the point of tonight. Tonight, we celebrate our heroes. For their work, they shall both be rewarded."

Samuel clenched his hand against her arm, his new claws threatening to break her skin, but Shan didn't flinch.

"For his part, Lord Aberforth will be appointed to my council, taking the position recently vacated by Lord Dunn."

The crowd cheered, and Samuel let out a low breath, his hand relaxing. It wasn't so bad—Shan's mind was already racing with how they could use this to their advantage.

"And for Lady Shan LeClaire, well, we have another vacancy to fill, don't we?"

Shan looked to the Eternal King, her heart pounding in her chest as she hoped that he wasn't about to say what she thought he was.

"I admit," the King said, placing a hand over his heart, "that I carry some of the blame for what happened. I appointed de la Cruz to a position far above his station, hoping that raw skill would outweigh his legacy. But blood will tell, won't it? Shan is the heir of the LeClaires, a bloodline that has been with us since the founding of Aeravin. She was born to our world, moving through it with a grace and elegance that cannot be taught."

Her knees buckled under her dress, but Samuel slipped his arm around her back, holding her upright when she wanted nothing more than to faint.

"She was the top of her class at the Academy, and she has proved her loyalty a hundred times over. So please let me present to you, Lady Shan LeClaire, Royal Blood Worker."

The crowd erupted, and Shan did the only thing she could.

She curtsied to all of Dameral, accepting the new chains that bound her.