Page 99 of Mistress of Lies
And so far she had found nothing.
Now it was time to pay the price for her mistakes. The Eternal King had summoned her and Samuel to a meeting and she was not foolish enough to assume that it would be pleasant.
Leaving the invitation on her desk, Shan retired to her rooms for a bath and a change of clothing. She had spent too much time locked away with her thoughts, avoiding the world around her as she struggled to understand where and how she and Anton had diverged so completely. Instead of focusing on the things she needed to do she had ignored the world around her, nursing her own pain like it was a fine wine.
She was slipping, and it was time to stop that.
Shan dressed soberly, demurely, a change from her normal attempts to impress. It would be useless to attempt to distract the Eternal King with her fineries and fripperies, and she was smart enough to simply take her punishment and carry on.
When she arrived at the palace she found Samuel there already, waiting in the King’s study when she was shown in. He was perched on the windowsill, staring out over the ocean as the afternoon light caught his hair, tinting it an even brighter gold than usual. He looked better than she felt, his expression cool and calm, his shoulders free of tension—as if he had let go of a weight he had been carrying.
Good. He shouldn’t look guilty before the King. The mistakes were hers, anyway.
Speaking of the King, he had yet to arrive, but someone had brought them a setting of tea and cakes. Her stomach was too riotous for food but she could use the boost that tea gave her. Crossing the room, she poured herself a cup and settled in to wait.
She didn’t have to wait for long.
“I was beginning to wonder if you would come to me yourselves,” the Eternal King said from the doorway, “but it seems that I had to summon you like the failures you are.” His voice was hard as stone, all traces of the reasonable, patient man he had pretended to be for months gone. His expression was cold, his green eyes emotionless and his mouth drawn in a thin, harsh line. It might have taken her ages, but Shan was finally looking at the real King—the power that had held a throne for centuries.
And it terrified her right down to the marrow of her bones.
Shan stood, only to drop into a low curtsy. “Your Majesty.” She could hear Samuel rising behind her, no doubt to bow as well, but the King only scoffed. She kept her head low as he closed the door and activated a blood ward to protect them from prying ears. She held her form until he stepped forward, catching her chin and tipping her face up.
“Rise,” he commanded, and she did, the tips of his claws surprisingly gentle on her skin. “Both of you.”
Shan couldn’t look to see what Samuel was doing. She could only focus on the King’s touch—on the pure rage and power that rolled off him. This close, she could feel the strength of his magic, the vibrancy of his blood—the blood and the lives that he had absorbed over the centuries—as he stared her down. It was like standing too close to a fire, warming and burning at the same time.
He was wrath incarnate, and she couldn’t look away.
At last he let go, slipping behind his desk, where he sank into his seat as if it were his throne and they were on trial.
Perhaps they were.
“So, it seems that I have made a grave mistake in trusting you,” the King said, looking over them with his steely gaze. “I had hoped that you both would have been clever enough to solve this before it became a true problem.” He dragged one claw across the paper on his desk, a copy of yesterday’s broadsheet that had leaked the murderer’s message, moving it to reveal a pamphlet underneath.
One of the seditious pamphlets.
“The people are in an uproar about this—demanding answers. What good are the Guard if they cannot protect,” he paused, picking up the paper with his claws, as if he loathed to touch it, “‘even the lowest amongst us.’ Bloody fool considers himself a poet.” He tossed it aside with a snarl, digging his other hand into the desk, the metal-tipped claws leaving gouges in the wood. “Now I have a problem on two fronts. Not only do I have this murderer still unaccounted for, wreaking havoc, but a populace that is a hair’s breadth away from revolt. So, if you would be so kind, please tell me what, precisely, you have been doing with your time?”
Shan looked to Samuel, catching his eyes, and he just stared back at her with fear. They had tried, hadn’t they? Or had they just been fools, getting distracted by all the other pomp and circumstance of Dameral, letting the important things slip through their fingers.
The King watched them for a full minute, the silence stretching tense and unbearable, until he pulled his lips back in a sneer. “Typical. I gave you two the chance to prove yourselves to me and you both have squandered it, not only failing to find the murderer but allowing Dameral to increasingly destabilize in the process.”
Shan flinched. “Your Majesty—”
“Don’t, LeClaire. Don’t think I haven’t kept tabs on you. The games you play are simply that, girl. Games. You have so much to learn.” He leaned forward, steepling his hands in front of him. “Either you’re less skilled than I thought, or you need to find the proper motivation. Listen to me now. This is your final chance—both of you. Either you find the murderer and keep order in Aeravin or face the consequences.”
“That’s hardly fair!” Samuel snapped, finding his voice at last. “You cannot put that turmoil on us!”
“Oh, I cannot?” The King arched one imperious eyebrow at Samuel. “Do not be so foolish. There may have been unrest, but these murders are giving them something concrete to rally around. And if you cannot deliver the murderer to them then there is no telling what they might do.”
Samuel sucked in a harsh breath, preparing another argument, but Shan laid a hand on his arm. He met her gaze, pleading, but she just shook her head once. Oh, how she admired him for it, how she wished that she could join him in his righteous rage, but she knew that would not work. Instead, she remained neutral. Betrayed nothing. Allowed herself to feel nothing.
Instead she focused on what she could control. “You mentioned consequences.”
“Oh, there is my girl. So focused on the mission, on the goal. How I have missed you.” The King looked far too pleased with himself. “Yes, there will be consequences. But it might be more helpful to think of them as incentives. I know what both of you value the most, and if you fail I will take them away from you.”
The King turned to Samuel first. “My dear boy. If nothing else, these past few months have proved to be blessing for you alone. You’ve grown so much in so short a time. You’re an exquisite weapon, my child, and if you cannot be a useful ally I will make you a tool to be used. We both know the depths of your talents.”