Page 87 of Mistress of Lies
Samuel clasped his hands behind his back to hide their shaking. Information, then.
The King continued. “We never found who she sold the information to. Your task is to get her to tell us.”
This was the way they could get them back, a tangible benefit to his training. He had known that this would happen eventually, that the King would use him for justice. But this was different from hunting a murderer—that saved lives. But this?
Well, he didn’t rightly know. But he didn’t have a choice. “All right.”
“Don’t look so sad, Samuel,” the King said. “It might seem unsavory, but it is an unfortunate necessity. You need to build up your talents, so that when they’re needed you can use them instinctively and without fear.”
Hanging his head, Samuel said, “I had hoped that I wouldn’t need to use them much. That it would be control I was learning.”
“With mastery comes control. But I understand.” The King clasped his shoulder, squeezing tight. “But for the first time we have an opportunity to take this… power, the one that so many Aberforths used for ill, and use it for good. To protect Aeravin.”
Samuel wrenched himself away, anger making him bold and foolish. “Please don’t put that on me. My father was—”
“A monster,” the King interrupted. “And it’s not your job to atone for his sins. But you can change your legacy, restore respect to the Aberforth name.”
To the King’s name—it wasn’t Samuel that he cared about precisely, but his own legacy. The blood of his blood, the flesh of his flesh. He could have married again, could have had another family. It had been over nine hundred years since the death of his wife, after all, but he had never sought out another.
It was a bit romantic, Samuel had to admit. But it also meant that everything he was, everything he did, was a reflection on the King. And that was a weight he didn’t want to carry, even if he did want to be better than the bastard that sired him. But perhaps, in this particular case, it wouldn’t be so bad to give in—to use this monstrous power for a bit of good. If he could save even one Unblooded life, it would be worth the stain on his soul.
And it would help him continue to win the King’s support, and with it he could help Shan with her plans to change things. It was better than holing up in his home, never speaking to anyone or doing anything for fear of accidentally using his power. He just needed to play the game first.
Feeling resolved for the first time since the King had proposed this plan, he stood tall. “I’m ready.”
The King smiled. “Good.” Walking over to the door, he opened it and spoke to the guard. “Bring the girl.”
Samuel took several deep breaths, closing his eyes as he reached for his gift. The King had been right about one thing, at least. It was getting easier with practice. As soon as he reached for it, it stirred to life, filling him with power and confidence—with the knowledge that while he drew on it, he was the one in control.
Most of the time.
It was addicting, this comfort. His whole life had been one of caution and fear, bowing to the whims of others, to the things he couldn’t control. His place as Unblooded, mistaken though it was. His poverty. His mother’s illness and death.
But now? There was nothing to fear.
The Guard had returned, escorting a young woman. She was a slight thing, pale and with a long, thick braid of dark hair. Samuel could tell that she had been pretty, though now she was wan and thin from her imprisonment, and her eyes shone bright and clever. Her arms were covered in bruises, and she moved gingerly—as if she was wounded.
The effects of the interrogations the King had mentioned. Torture, Samuel was sure.
Hopefully, his method would be less painful.
“You can take those off,” Samuel said, looking at the manacles that still bound her. The Guard glanced up at the King, who nodded his assent. Only then did he unchain the woman, and she stood there rubbing her wrists. “And you can leave us now.”
“As he said,” the King added, and the Guard left.
The woman was staring at them both, not ducking her head in deference like most of the servants that Samuel had encountered in the palace. She was no longer cowed, and Samuel had to respect that.
“Thank you for helping us,” Samuel said, stepping forward with a smile that wasn’t entirely forced. He gestured towards a table set in the corner that the King had brought in for this exact purpose. “You can have a seat if you like, Miss…?”
“Kalyn,” the woman replied, eyeing the chair distrustfully, as if searching its wooden frame and soft, white cushions for deception. “And what shall I call you, sir?”
She managed to make the honorific sound like an insult, and Samuel felt bad. In another context, in another life, he would have liked her a great deal, but the Eternal King hadn’t brought her here so they could make friends. “My name is Samuel Aberforth, but you can just call me Samuel.”
Kalyn glanced up, her dark eyes narrowed. “It’s you, then.”
“It is,” Samuel said, biting back a frown as he slid into his seat. News spread far and fast, and he supposed that even prisoners could get their hands on the gossip rags that kept detailing his activities since his introduction to society. “Would you mind answering a few questions?”
“Depends on the questions,” she said carefully, settling in the chair across from him. She glanced over at the King, who stood watching them a few feet away. “I can’t promise to have the answers.”