Page 86 of Mistress of Lies

Everything was playing out better than she could have anticipated. Lady Belrose was considering her bill, the Eternal King had turned to her for aid. She had both the Lost Aberforth and the Royal Blood Worker eating out of her hand.

It was everything she could have hoped for.

A small part of her rebelled at the thought of counting Samuel and Isaac amongst her accomplishments, but she was not fool enough to discount them. Regardless of her feelings for them, they were assets, and she had to be cognizant of it.

She was building power faster than she had ever thought she would. How could they not see it?

Clenching her fist at her side, she strode out the door. This might have been a dead end, but she was not done for the night. Samuel had picked up a couple of interesting leads at the Lynwood party the other night, and she had time.

She would gather every other secret and lie in Aeravin to her and prove that she was able to do this.

She would not destroy them.

She would bring them to glory.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Samuel

Samuel’s lessons had been proceeding well, according to Isaac, as he twisted the man round and round to obey his commands. Kneeling had only been the beginning—Samuel forced Isaac to crawl on his knees across the floor, to grovel, and once, even, to turn his own blade against his throat, the steel pressing against the soft skin until blood blossomed.

Samuel had no idea how Isaac separated it in his mind. In this room—this grim chamber of the King’s—it was as if they were different people. As if what happened here couldn’t touch what they were building outside. Where they met over coffee and talked books, where Isaac escorted him to balls and salons when Shan was busy, where they shared heated glances that spoke of promise.

Not the pain that the King’s training put them through, honing Samuel’s gifts and testing his limits—tempered by the promise that maybe, just maybe, they could take all this away.

But after the failure of the tavern experiment and the success of the Lynwood party, they were running out of options. They needed fresh subjects, new ways to push the limits of his power. He might be able to bring himself to pull some secrets from Blood Workers, but he couldn’t dare risk exposure, and so Isaac did the only thing he could.

He filed his report to the Eternal King. And the Eternal King? He was curious, and so Isaac was dismissed.

So tonight, Samuel stood in front of the King and his books of notes, alone. The King had shed his fancy coat, standing there in only breeches and shirtsleeves, the cuffs tucked up almost to his elbows. Witch light highlighted the scars on his arms, the faint white lines crisscrossing their way across his skin.

He was caught staring, and the King’s lips curved into a small smile. “Blood Working has come a long way in the past millennium. Our methods didn’t use to be so refined.”

“Can’t you heal them?”

“I could,” the King acknowledged, “but I want to remember where I came from, and what I learned. You should be thankful, though, that the Blood Workers of today heal clean. We wouldn’t want to ruin Isaac’s pretty skin.”

Samuel blanched, and the King’s smile turned a little bit cruel.

Speaking through a suddenly dry throat, Samuel asked, “What is today’s lesson?”

The King turned to him. “You’re strong, Samuel, even stronger than your father. I am proud of your successes, but we need to know just how powerful you are. If you can overcome even the strongest wills—and so we will test you.”

“I see,” Samuel said. “On whom?”

“Oh, I have the perfect specimen.”

“Specimen?” Samuel furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”

“Yes. She’s resisted all traditional forms of interrogation. Her strength of will is incredible, and if she wasn’t so dangerous I’d be impressed.” The King snarled. “She’s a criminal, Samuel, and you’re our last hope of getting the truth out of her.”

Samuel took a deep breath, wondering if this was better or worse than experimenting on Isaac. At least this would be a stranger—but then again, did she deserve this? “What was her crime?”

The King cocked his head to the side, like a cat studying his prey. “Does it really matter?”

No, it didn’t. It wasn’t like the King would find some other person for them to practice on if Samuel wanted to spare her—Samuel had already learned that the King never spared anyone, despite his claims otherwise. “Just curious.”

The King sighed, but acquiesced. “You do need to know for the purpose of this interrogation. She was a handmaiden to one of my Councillors, and she stole from her employer. Information, state secrets, anything she could sell to foreign spies.”