Page 25 of Mistress of Lies
But as she stepped back, a slight smile on her lips, Samuel swore he could feel her linger.
All the while she was a steady, calming presence. Then she loaded him into her carriage and took him to meet the Eternal King. It wasn’t a long trip as the bird flew—the walk would have taken them little more than a half an hour—but apparently it was bad form to appear at the palace on foot.
He let Shan have her way, and they took the carriage through the narrow, winding streets, even though it would have been quicker if they hadn’t. Still, it allowed Samuel to see Dameral in a way he never had before. Before he hadn’t even been to this part of the city, but now he could watch the people as they passed by. Women in their fancy day dresses, men with their decorative walking sticks and velvet jackets, all lush and dark jewel tones, like so much of Aeravinian style—they might embrace styles and fabrics, following in the footsteps of their neighbors, but some aesthetics would never change. They moved in and out of shops that sold finery and frippery, jewels and soaps and the fanciest teas imported from all over the world, and Samuel felt anxious even looking at them.
And through it all, that tiny, dark part of him whispered that this was the world he belonged to. The one he should have been born to.
“We really thought you were all gone, you know,” Shan said, suddenly.
Samuel didn’t pull his gaze from the carriage window. “What are you going on about?”
“The Aberforths,” Shan replied smoothly. “It was such a tragedy.”
He couldn’t help the scoff. “I might be new here, Lady LeClaire,” Samuel said quietly. “But even I know that no one thought my father’s death was a tragedy.”
Shan folded her hands in her lap, looking up at him through her fine eyelashes. “Perhaps not. But the other deaths were—especially the children.”
Funny, how she phrased it. As if the deaths were some mere accident and not murder.
All the Aberforths had been gathered at their country estate for the wedding of one the minor cousins—everyone but the Eternal King himself. Lord Nathaniel Aberforth, known for his cruelty that bordered on madness, killed everyone there then turned the blade on himself.
There were no survivors.
Samuel always suspected that his father was a bastard, but he had never suspected it was the Mad Aberforth himself, though it made a twisted kind of sense. The darkness in him couldn’t have come out of nowhere. Yet here he was, entering their world and claiming their name. But at least he had Shan—he might not truly trust her, but he was comfortable in the knowledge that she would not see him disgraced. She was not the type to waste an investment.
“Just be careful,” Shan said. “It is still a delicate subject, even after all this time. But he should still be happy to see you.”
Samuel couldn’t blame him. The Aberforths had been descended from him and his mortal wife, whom he had married when he took the throne all those centuries ago. The Aberforths were his children, his descendants. Then they were all gone. An entire family—and legacy—destroyed.
Until him.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Samuel asked, doubt starting to creep in.
“Of course,” Shan said. “When have I ever led you astray?”
He laughed at the absurdity of that statement—they were still practically strangers after all—but it did relieve some of the tension, and then the carriage lurched to a stop. Shan glanced out the window. “We’re here.”
The door was opened by her coachman, who had stopped looking at Samuel like he didn’t belong.
Perhaps appearances did make a difference after all.
Shan exited first, Samuel following, and they stepped into a grand courtyard. There was far more greenery than he had expected, not a bit of stone or marble to be seen. Instead, there was a garden of the most luscious red roses—Aeravinian roses—blooming strong and fragrant in the early spring light.
It was more beautiful that any gaudy display of material goods could have been, and Samuel felt a grudging sort of respect for the Eternal King. Yes, this must cost an excessive amount of money and magic to maintain, especially out of season. But it was real and beautiful and tangible, and even he couldn’t begrudge them the cost.
Shan watched him admire the garden with a soft smile, her sharp edges softened for once. When she caught him staring, she just held out her arm. “Let’s go meet your family.”
Samuel nodded, linking arms with her and wordlessly following her into the palace. As they passed through the grand doors, he saw his surroundings slowly morph into the kind of opulence he had expected from the start—the kind that he hated. The walls draped in heavy woven tapestries, the paintings of the glorious Blood Working revolution that had birthed Aeravin, the stained-glass windows that cast streams of color across the marble floors. All fine, yes. Quite understandable and even laudable in moderation.
But throughout the city people were struggling. Starving. Children were scrambling and fighting for bits of stale bread, and the Eternal King lived a life of such wealth and luxury that it made Samuel furious.
Even looking at the servants, he could tell they were leagues beyond the life he had known, maids and footmen and secretaries all passing by in clothes finer than anything Samuel was used to. Shan didn’t even acknowledge them, moving past as if they weren’t even there. She moved with a casual determination, like she belonged there, and none could tell her otherwise.
Samuel wondered if he’d ever feel the same way.
“We’re to meet him in his private study, just past the Royal Library,” Shan said, filling the awkward silence.
Samuel couldn’t help himself, he perked up at the mere mention of a library, and Shan, damn her, noticed. “Is he an avid reader?” Samuel asked quickly.