Page 30 of Mistress of Lies
Shan shrugged. “Most definitely, but a lady never shares her secrets.”
The King smiled, a little cruelly and with far too many teeth, and poured himself another glass. “And then what? You went and dragged him here?”
“Of course not.” She frowned. “I first had to make sure the rumors were true. I broke into his flat, I tasted his blood and I made him an offer. I cleaned him up and dressed him in the finest of suits and ensured he understood the magnitude of what was happening. Only then did I bring him to you.”
“Well, I am very impressed.” He raised his glass to her. “I see my faith in you was not misplaced.”
“I didn’t think you had faith in me at all,” Shan said. She hid the wince that threatened to follow—she didn’t know if it was the whisky or her pride that had her speaking so boldly, but from the lazy smile the King gave her it seemed that he approved of such expressions.
She carefully stored away that information, already shifting her outward demeanor. If he preferred that, she could be confident and bold. It would be a welcome change from the normal roles she played. Soft. Shy. Demure. It was closer to the real woman who hid behind the mask, and, as much as she feared and hated the Eternal King, this was the closest she had been to being herself in a long time.
“I’ve been watching you since you were a child,” the King said. “I’ve had a vested interest in your family. Do you know what your father did for me once?”
Her throat tightened, but she managed to get out two words. “I do.”
He inclined his head. “I had high hopes for him. He was clever, like you. He was a talented Blood Worker, also like you. But he lacked strength and conviction.” He sighed. “I tried to bring him into the fold, to hone his mind and his ability to see patterns into something useful for Aeravin. But it is a delicate business, sorting truth from lies. Using that information to control people. I rarely make mistakes, but in this I was wrong. Your father was ill-suited for the work.”
Shan clenched her glass, holding it so hard that it left indents on her skin. It wasn’t that he had been merely ill-suited. That made it sound as if he had performed poorly—but he hadn’t. He had been terribly gifted at his work, until something in him shattered and he saw enemies everywhere. Then he turned on allies, friends, the very hand that fed him.
Even his own home.
She could never know what her life would have been like if her father hadn’t been recruited by the King. It could have been the same. Blood and steel, it could have been worse.
But what if it had been better? What if he had been kinder?
She couldn’t think about this now—not here. Not in front of him. “He was,” she said, because she had to. Because it was a version of the truth.
“Now I’m thinking that I pulled from the family too soon.” The King leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied her. “I should have waited a generation.”
Her mouth went dry. “Are you suggesting—”
He held up his hand, interrupting her. “You have great instincts for this work. And this was a hell of an audition, girl. But one does not simply become a master of spies and information on a lark. It is hard work, it is taxing work, and I do not intend to make the same mistake twice.”
Shan held back her smile—of course he didn’t suspect the truth. Even in doing all this, no one would assume that she—young, demure, disgraced Shan LeClaire—would be the Sparrow. And having that up on the Eternal King gave her power. “What if I am interested?”
The King smiled again, and she had to fight the chills that ran down her spine. “I thought as much. You’re a bright girl, Shan. You don’t need me to tell you that. Continue to do what you’re doing and we’ll see how things go. But for now, I need you to look after Samuel for me. He said you have a room for him.”
“Naturally.” She drew up her shoulders. “He was evicted; besides, he needs to learn how to live among us.”
“Yes, I heard that little fact.” His eyes glinted, and Shan suddenly feared for those who had made Samuel’s life even the slightest bit difficult. “I need to ask a favor of you. Help him get acclimatized. Learn who to befriend and who not to.”
“I can do that,” Shan said, then pushed forward. “But what’s in it for me?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “There is the boldness your father lacked! Oh, I like you, LeClaire.” Spreading his hands, he gestured to encompass the entirety of the room. “Think of it this way. Samuel is of my blood. I will be supporting him and his ascension to Lord. By tying yourself to Samuel—”
“I’ll be tying myself to you,” Shan interrupted. “I’ll have your support as well as his, and it’ll be a much-needed boost to the LeClaire reputation.” She knocked back the rest of her drink. “And all that is well and good, but I want more.”
Intrigued, he leaned back in his chair and gestured for her to continue.
“I’ve heard the rumors; I’ve tasted his blood—I know what he is. But more than that, I’ve seen the kindness in his soul and the fragility in his heart. Whatever your plans are with him, I can help. I’ve already got him in my grasp.”
The King’s gaze was sharp. “Gladly. It would be a good way to test you, after all.”
“I won’t let you down,” Shan vowed.
“I don’t expect you to. You know what happens to those who earn my displeasure.” He let the words settle over her, hanging between them with all the weight of the threat—of the promise—that they were. “Now, run along. I have to see to the Aberforth accounts.”
Shan stood gracefully, her movements precise and stable despite the sudden injection of fear to her veins. “Good day.”