Page 116 of Mistress of Lies

Crushing the pamphlet in her hand, she spun on him. “It’s been you all along. You’re The Friend.”

Anton inclined his head, and she cursed. “Not just me, but, yes. I’ve been one of the writers and organizers.”

“Don’t you realize what you’ve done? What you’re all doing?”

“You’re brilliant, Shan,” Anton began, and she braced herself for the but that was coming. “But your plans…”

“Will change Aeravin,” Shan said. “You know this.”

“Actually, I don’t,” Anton snapped. “What you fail to realize is that you’re a Blood Worker, and that Aberforth you intend to replace the King with will be a Blood Worker, too. And, yes, he’s—” Anton had had the grace to look pained “—he’s a good man, but changing one man won’t fix anything. There is still the House of Lords, there are still systems and institutions that will keep the Unblooded in their place.”

Shan stepped back. She had expected many things, such terrible things, but the idea that he had lost faith in what she was doing was the most painful option of all. “Everything will change.”

“Nothing will change,” Anton said, sadly. “They won’t let it. They won’t even allow Alaric to hold his seat in the House of Lords.”

Shan wanted to argue, but he was right. The House of Lords would never let someone like Alaric amongst them. Not unless they were forced to.

“It will be revolution, then?” she asked.

“Is it so different than what you are doing?”

“In my plan,” Shan said, quietly, “there would be no innocent deaths.”

“There are already innocents dying.” Anton stepped over to a desk, pulling out paper after paper, laying them in a pile before her. “People are starving, people are being worked until they die, people cannot afford midwives or doctors or healers, though we have the ability to care for them. And,” he started making a different pile, “that’s not even getting to the crime.”

Slamming a bundle of papers down, he hissed, “This is a partial list of Unblooded who have vanished in the past year, Shan. One year. And there were no investigations done, no bodies found. This many people don’t just disappear. It should be a crisis, but our government does nothing for them.”

He looked up at her and Shan realized that this wasn’t some idle fancy, some fit of righteous passion, that had taken over her brother. No, this was a long-thought-out, carefully crafted plan. A revolution that had grown out of the problems that simmered under Aeravin’s facade.

Problems that even she—the Sparrow, with her dreams of making the country a better place for the Unblooded—had not seen. Had not bothered to look for.

Because she hadn’t truly cared about the Unblooded, not really. She had just cared about her brother.

And he had outdone her in every way, even without magic.

“They will kill you,” she said. “They will kill all of you.”

Anton didn’t argue. “I had hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, honestly, but I know that it will come to violence eventually. I’ve seen your bill.”

“I’m trying to save people!” she screamed, and he just smiled sadly.

“I know you are. But you never stopped to ask how they wanted to be saved, or if they were willing to risk fighting for the hope of a better chance.”

She turned away, trembling, and Anton wrapped his arms around her. “I have to do this, you understand.”

“I do,” Shan said, because she was the same. “But know that I will keep fighting to protect you, as much as I can.”

“I know you will.” He let go. “Now it’s best you leave. We have to move our operations.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“I know,” Anton said. “But we need to be safe nonetheless. The fact that you know that I am involved—that Alaric and Maia are involved—is bad enough.”

Shan cupped her brother’s cheek. “When did you grow up so much?”

“Right in front of your face,” Anton said. “You just weren’t looking. Now go.”

Nodding, she made her way towards the stairs, still clutching the ruined pamphlet in her hand. Anton watched her go, and all the words she wanted to say died on her tongue.

---