Page 40 of Mistress of Lies
But Cobb wasn’t looking at him, he was digging through the stack of paper in front of him, muttering as he went. Samuel’s mind was reeling—what had the man figured out to connect the dots?
“Here it is!” Cobb said, shoving one of the broadsheets under Samuel’s nose.
He took the paper with unsteady hands, his eyes dropping automatically to a headline in bold type.
A NEW ABERFORTH?
Skimming the article, he felt a cold dread settle into his stomach as he read an account of his own life for the past week. Yes, the details were muddy and vague, but the gist of it was there—the Aberforth home was reopened, a strange young man had moved in. It was clear that the Aberforths had returned, and Dameral’s rumor mills were already churning.
“It’s you,” Cobb said. It wasn’t even a question, and Samuel could only nod. “Hells, it’s a miracle I wasn’t arrested for treason.”
“You didn’t know,” Samuel said quickly. “I didn’t know. No one knew. I tried to tell him that. I told him to let it go.”
Cobb’s laugh was a tinge panicked. “You—you tried to command him?”
It seemed foolish in hindsight, Samuel had to admit. Who was he to make demands of the Eternal King? But this was the very reason why he had tried. He had become a poison to those he had known—mere association with him had proved to be dangerous.
“Let me help you,” Samuel begged. “Clearly I have the means to.”
“No,” Cobb replied, firmly. “Your heart’s in the right place, but I can’t be caught with those.”
“Do you have any idea how much they’re worth?”
Cobb snatched one of the cufflinks off the table, turning it so that the head faced Samuel. “What do you see?” Samuel stared down at it, at the large A in elegant script. “If I am caught with this—if it’s found that I sold them—I’d be branded a thief. So keep your jewelry. I don’t need it.”
Samuel deflated. “I just want to help.”
“And the best way you can help me—help any of us—is by going back to your new home and staying put.” Cobb drained the drinks in front of him. “Thanks for the ale, but I’m afraid that’s all I can accept from you.”
“Cobb,” Samuel said, his voice cracking. “Please.”
“I’m sorry, kid,” Cobb said, pushing away from the table. “But getting mixed up with your kind is always dangerous.”
“But I’m just like you!”
The look Cobb shot him was enough to crush all of Samuel’s hopes—his foolish plans just to walk the streets and give out money and finery to those who needed it were just that. Foolish. Who could they sell it to? Every legitimate pawn shop would think the goods stolen, and then Samuel would just be giving them the means and encouragement to enter a life of crime.
And the Blood Workers were not kind to Unblooded criminals.
It had only been a week, but he had already started to lose sight of what it had meant to be Unblooded. Had he been so surrounded by Blood Workers and nobility and money that the very definition of normal had started to shift already?
“I hope I don’t see you around here again,” Cobb said. It wasn’t unkind, but the message was clear. He wasn’t welcome anymore.
“You won’t.” Samuel hung his head.
“Goodbye, kid.”
He heard Cobb’s footsteps as he left, heavy and steady, but Samuel just sat there, trying to feel normal. The broadsheet with the article on the Aberforths remained in front of him, taunting him, so Samuel grabbed the stack and shoved it into the pile, hiding it away.
As he did, a smaller pamphlet fell to the floor. Reaching down to grab it, Samuel froze as his eyes caught on the headline.
ANOTHER UNBLOODED DEATH,
ANOTHER BREACH OF DUTY
This wasn’t a broadsheet—this was something different.
Something dangerous.