Page 135 of Mistress of Lies

“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.

---