Page 54 of Mistress of Lies
He sneered, and Shan realized that this was not motivated out of any kindness or sense of justice, but out of the sheer political practicality of keeping peace. “But I cannot discount that while they may not be strong, they are many. So, if we give them just a hint of what they want, we can placate them before they truly push for more. Nip this dangerous sentiment in the bud.”
Though she disagreed with his morals, she couldn’t argue with his logic. “Perhaps you should use that as part of your speech to the House, my lord.”
He snapped his fingers. “Yes, I should! Let me write that down.”
While he was scribbling she turned her gaze back to the document in her hand, trying to wrap her mind around it. “And you believe the solution is to give them a place in the government?”
“Not precisely.” He turned back to her. “Rather, we’d create an office that would be dedicated to hearing their complaints and concerns, an additional branch of the Council.” His smile was cold and calculating. “It would give the illusion that we are taking steps, but in the end it will still be up to the House of Lords to pass any new laws.”
She bit back the retort on her tongue. He wasn’t helping the Unblooded, and he knew it. All he was doing was wasting resources to create an elaborate form of trickery. At best, it would buy them a few years until the Unblooded figured out they were being played.
But still, a few years of peace would give her more time to get ingratiated into her role, to gain more power, and perhaps, just perhaps, she could use this to her advantage. She could be seen as an ally to the Unblooded, and when it was time to move—well, there would be some frameworks already in place.
“You think a lot of my opinions if you believe that I can get all of Aeravin behind this. Especially considering my,” the word almost stuck in her throat, “shortcomings.”
“I do,” Dunn confirmed, “though you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not your fault your father chose poorly. Besides, the fact that you have done so well in spite of it only proves your strength of character, does it not?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond to that, luckily for him, continuing on with his planning. “Anyway, it needn’t be all of Aeravin. Just enough to get it passed. Besides, the first step is not so controversial. As I said, the truth will be clear.”
Again, she took that anger and locked it away inside. She was used to it—a lifetime of tiny cuts had made her numb to the pain, though she feared the day when the smallest of slights would tip her over the edge.
“Yes, it will be,” Shan said, focusing on the issue at hand. The truth behind his bill. If she could see it—if all the nobles of Aeravin could—why wouldn’t the Unblooded?
“It is the perfect solution,” Dunn said again. “Only it is one I cannot present myself. I have a—” he coughed, looking away from Shan. “A certain reputation when it comes to the Unblooded. This plan would be too gentle to be believable as a proposal from Lord Dunn.”
“Yes, you have tended towards,” Shan hesitated, “conservative policies.”
“The Unblooded are coddled, and if I had my way we’d remind them of their place before they start getting out of hand.” He grabbed something off his desk, passing it to her. “Such a travesty would not have been allowed when I was young.”
It was a pamphlet—the kind that the Unblooded passed among themselves. Usually harmless, but a quick glance confirmed that this was not the normal kind. This was outright seditious—demanding change to the very structure of the government itself.
While the Blood Workers revel, it read, leeching off our labor, we are not given even the slightest consideration. If they cannot be bothered to legislate for our needs, perhaps they should allow us to do it for them. For, unlike them, we are accustomed to hard work.
“Disgusting, isn’t it?” Dunn sneered. “Keep it, read it. It’s good to know what these rats are thinking. But I am not the hot-blooded young fool I once was. If there is a chance to settle this peaceably, then we should. But if they reject it?” There was a hunger in his eyes, barely restrained, that chilled Shan. “That’s another matter entirely.”
“I understand.” Shan folded the papers, slipping them into her reticule.
“Good.” He leaned forward, resting his hands on the armrests of her chair. “Of course, I don’t expect an answer on this now, but I want you to understand that I have eyes and ears everywhere. Should the details of my bill—or my grander plans—become public, I will know how. Am I understood?”
Shan didn’t flinch. “If I am not to discuss the bill, how am I to sway people to your side?”
“Oh, you are. But it’s not my bill. It will be yours.”
“Ah,” Shan said. “I see.”
She was to be the tool to be used, the pawn he played when he couldn’t make the move himself. It was a degrading role, but still… there would be advantages.
“Precisely.” He stepped back. “I think we understand each other well, LeClaire. We can help each other, if you want it.” Shan opened her mouth to respond, but he held up his hand. “Don’t. Prove it to me with actions, or not at all. Good day, my lady.”
Shan stood and curtsied. “Good day, Lord Dunn.” She let herself out without turning back to him, focusing instead on the potential he offered her—not the pain, not the insults—with a clear mind.
Yes, this plan would fail. Eventually. Yes, she would be his tool.
But the favor of a Royal Councillor would be quite the currency to collect, and the prestige of building up power in the House of Lords itself would pay out quite nicely.
All she had to do was hold her nose and close her eyes.
“Lady LeClaire!”
She spun, turning to see a young woman in Royal Livery running her way.