Page 10 of Mistress of Lies

“Perhaps if you had returned any of my letters,” she said coolly, “I would know more about it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, swearing. “It was complicated, Shan, you must know that.”

“Oh, I do.” This time, when she smiled, there was no warmth to it. “I understand that you couldn’t be seen associating with someone as low as me.”

She almost didn’t blame him. It had all worked out in the end, for it hadn’t been long at all before the King had appointed him Royal Blood Worker to the shock of all of Aeravin. It had been another one of the dreams he had whispered in her ear, back when they both believed it was nothing more than that.

The position of Royal Blood Worker was prestigious. Powerful. It placed one at the King’s right hand, with the privilege and curse of handling all his most important affairs. Most importantly, he had thought it would bring him acceptance he craved so much. It would prove to everyone that he belonged here just as much as they did—and to some extent, it had worked, though there were still whispers about that upstart de la Cruz. But it also bound him to the Eternal King, to do his bidding and represent his will across Aeravin. It would have been hell, in her opinion, but it was everything that Isaac had wanted.

And only a small part of her hoped that his victory was a bitter one.

“I know I was wrong,” Isaac said. He stepped forward, but she immediately moved back. Not letting him close.

Not knowing what she’d do if he was.

“You were,” she said.

“Please, Shan, is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

She looked away, wanting to accept his words as truth, his pain as genuine. It probably was, but she couldn’t discount the fact that he hadn’t reached out to her until he knew that her father was dead.

“I don’t know, Isaac,” she said. It was the first bit of genuine honesty that she had shown that night, and she forced herself to look upon him, to accept that the pain fluttering across his expression was her fault.

He didn’t back down. “Well, I hope you can let me try, at least. I want us to be… friends, again.”

“Oh, Isaac.” She shook her head. “We’re not children anymore. Blood Workers don’t have friends.”

“No, they don’t.” He took her hand in his, grabbing it before she could pull away. She didn’t fight him as he raised it to his lips, placing a soft kiss to the back of it, and warmth spread through her from that single, brief point of contact. “But we were never simply friends, were we?”

Shan licked her lips, her throat suddenly dry as she remembered those nights. The taste of his mouth, the feel of his skin under her hands, the weight of his body over hers as they explored the ways they could bring each other pleasure.

Things between them had never been simple, and they never would be. But she couldn’t bring herself to cast him aside in the same way that he had her, so she just whispered, “No, we weren’t.”

“Is there any hope at all?”

The words fell from her lips before she could stop them. “Give me a reason.”

It wasn’t quite an admission, but he was smart enough to see it for what it was. A chance.

When he smiled at her, it was like they were teenagers again. Like the last few years had never happened. “Come with me to the theatre, Shan. I have a box.”

She nodded, unable to find her voice.

“Brilliant! I’ll send an invitation.” He bowed to her, the perfect gentleman. “I should let you get back to your guests. I look forward to seeing you soon.”

“Me too.”

Grinning, Isaac turned away from her, reaching for his cigarette case. And Shan returned to her party, a polite smile plastered on her face to cover the riotous beating of her heart.

Anton was watching from the window, a glass of whisky in hand. He arched an eyebrow, and it was clear from the look that he gave her that he had at least seen everything, even if he had been unable to hear it.

She gave him the subtlest shake of her head. Not now.

Glaring, Anton downed the rest of his drink in one gulp, then pushed his way through the crowds and out of the ballroom. The guests tittered amongst themselves, but they were used to Anton’s antics. He did always lean into his role.

They knew the real power in the room was Shan. The woman who had taken private conversations with both the King and the Royal Blood Worker. They had all seen the shift in power.

Shan held herself proud and tall. There was still work to do.