Page 104 of Mistress of Lies

“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.”

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