Page 45 of Mistress of Lies
“I believe it is,” Isaac said, grinning. “As you are family of the King, you’re welcome to help yourself to anything you find here—just check it out with Charlotte before you leave. Besides, I’ve heard the Aberforth estate’s library is lacking, so hopefully this suits you better.”
“It is,” Samuel said. “Lacking, that is.” It had been the first room he had truly explored, before even his own bedroom, and he had been filled with a crushing disappointment. It seemed that the Aberforths before him hadn’t cared much for reading and they had simply purchased books by the foot, not caring about the quality or the value of the words they carried, all decorative spines and impressive titles, but drivel within. It was all style and no substance.
Isaac clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, the last few generations of your family hadn’t been scholarly, from what the rumors say.”
No, they had been cruel. Vicious. A long, terrible fall from grace. Their passing had been tragic, but he couldn’t deny that there had been a sense of relief that had spread over Dameral afterwards.
“You are familiar with the rumors, then?” Samuel asked, and Isaac turned away. Shan had given him some of them, but he knew that she was withholding the worst. He was uncomfortable enough, and she seemed hesitant to push him. He didn’t know if it was a kindness or an attempt to manipulate him—it was hard to tell with her.
“I am,” Isaac said, at last. “They were not nice people, Samuel, and though I’ve just met you, I can already tell you are far better than them.”
“Flatterer,” Samuel chided, but he was smiling as he said it.
“Is it flattery if it is the truth?” Isaac asked, his dark eyes sweeping over him. It was different from the way that Charlotte had studied him—that had been reverence and fear. This was pure interest, with just a hint of heat.
Samuel sucked in a harsh breath as he realized what was happening. Hells. This wasn’t some mere stranger. Not someone he could brush off with paltry excuses, like Markus had been. They were to be allies or enemies in the complicated game of cat and mouse that his life had become. This had potential—and that terrified him.
And it was bad enough that there was already attraction growing between him and Shan.
Isaac laughed softly, breaking the spell between them as he ran his hand over the back of his neck. The tension hung thick between them, and it was clear that he felt it, too. “So, books then. What are you interested in?”
“History,” Samuel answered. “Politics. Philosophy. And fiction, of course.”
“Of course,” Isaac said. “What kind of fiction? Do you prefer the dramatic stories? Adventure tales? Sweeping tales of romance?”
Blushing fiercely, Samuel looked away. “Just fiction.”
Isaac burst out laughing, and Samuel wanted to sink into the floor. “Oh, Samuel. Don’t tell me. You have a soft, bleeding, romantic heart, don’t you?”
“There is no need to be cruel,” Samuel muttered.
“Cruel?” Isaac stepped around him, and the expression on his face was achingly fond. “I’m not being cruel. I’m delighted. The world needs more idealists, if you ask me.”
Taking a deep breath, Samuel tried to force some of his embarrassment to fade. “I see.”
“Unfortunately, you won’t find many of those books here,” Isaac said, sadly. “Or the ones that you do will be unbearably chaste. Something about decorum or whatnot. But I’ll be happy to loan you some from my own collection.”
Samuel stared at him.
“What? It’s well known that my parents were deeply in love,” Isaac said, shrugging. “It’s part of what made them so unpopular. Growing up with them, well, it tends to give a boy hopes.”
“Hopes?” Samuel licked his lips, and Isaac’s gaze dropped briefly to them.
“Hopes,” he repeated. “Even when they are foolish. Come, Samuel, let me show you where to find things. This library can satisfy your academic needs, but don’t worry, I’ll be sure you have your fun, too.”
Isaac’s smile was a wicked, brilliant thing, and when he grabbed Samuel by the hand, Samuel let himself be pulled into the stacks.
After Isaac had shown him around and explained the basic layout, Samuel devoted himself to learning the ins and outs of the library. Isaac had given him a friendly smile and retreated back to the study area, but Samuel? He explored—it was exactly what he needed after the meeting with the King and he would be eternally grateful to Isaac for giving it to him.
In the space of an hour he had brought a dozen books back to the table, books on history and Blood Working and politics, the look on Isaac’s face growing more incredulous with each successive trip. By the time he added the thirteenth book to the already precarious pile, Isaac reached out and grabbed him by the wrist.
“I think you have enough for now,” he said. “The rest will still be here when you’re done with these.”
“But what if someone checks them out?” Samuel asked, deadly serious.
“Then you can take out different books!” Isaac shook his head. “And besides, I haven’t even given you the fun ones yet.” His voice dropped low on the word fun, sending chills running down Samuel’s spine. Isaac’s voice was deeper than it had any right to be, rich and masculine, and Samuel sat so he could hide his rising blush behind the stack of books.
“Fine,” Samuel reluctantly agreed. “This is a good start.” Isaac did have a point, after all. There were more than enough books to keep him busy, and besides, it wasn’t like the palace was far from his home. Or that he wouldn’t be back here often enough.