Page 109 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“May I ask why the urgency?” Mnemosyne’s gaze was penetrating, as if she could see through my carefully constructed facade to the turmoil beneath.

I chose my words with care. “As I said before, there are events unfolding that may be connected to what happened that night. Understanding my past may be crucial to navigating my future.”

After studying me a long moment, she nodded. “Very well. There is a middle path—a potion that will lower the barriers between your conscious mind and the suppressed memories, allowing them to surface gradually over the course of a few days rather than in a single, overwhelming rush. It’s still risky, but less so than a sudden breaking of the spell.”

Hope flared in my chest. “And this potion—you can make it?”

“I can,” she confirmed. “But I must warn you, Lady Blackrose—even with this method, you’ll be vulnerable while the memories surface. Disoriented, possibly experiencing both past and present simultaneously. It would be wise to have someone you trust nearby, someone who can ground you if the memories become too overwhelming.”

Kazimir’s face flashed in my mind, but I quickly pushed the thought away. No. Not him. Not when things between us were so strained.

“I’ll manage,” I said firmly.

Mnemosyne looked skeptical but didn’t argue. “The potion will take time to prepare—until tomorrow, at least. And I’ll need something from you to attune it properly.”

“What kind of something?” I asked, wariness creeping back into my voice.

“A lock of hair is traditional,” she said with a small smile. “Though a drop of blood would work better, given the nature of the spell we’re trying to counteract.”

Blood magic. Of course. It often came back to blood with the truly powerful spells. I hesitated only briefly before extending my hand. “Blood, then.”

Mnemosyne produced a small silver knife from within her sash. The blade gleamed in the sunlight as she carefully pricked my finger, catching the welling drop of blood in a tiny crystal vial. The moment the blood touched the crystal, it began to glow with a soft golden light—the signature of my heroic bloodline.

Mnemosyne’s eyes widened slightly. “Fascinating,” she murmured. “Your blood is unusually potent.”

“So I’ve been told,” I said drily, thinking of Kazimir’s experiments with my blood that had revealed the fortyfold amplification effect. “Will that be a problem?”

“No,” she said, sealing the vial with a cork. “If anything, it will make the potion more effective. Return tomorrow morning, and it will be ready.”

I rose to leave, but Mnemosyne caught my wrist gently. “Lady Blackrose,” she said, her voice low and serious. “Whatever you discover in these memories—be prepared for it to change how you see not just your past, but your present as well. The truth has a way of reshaping everything it touches.”

A shiver ran down my spine, but I nodded. How could anyone truly prepare for the unveiling of a past they didn’t remember? “You’re not what I expected to find in the God Spire.”

Mnemosyne laughed lightly. “The Spire attracts all sorts, Lady Blackrose. Not everyone here deals in souls and shadows. Some of us simply provide services that might be frowned upon elsewhere.”

As I turned to go, Mnemosyne called after me. “Lady Blackrose.”

I paused at the door, looking back over my shoulder.

She hesitated, as if weighing her next words carefully. “Remember what I said about having someone you trust nearby. The mind can play tricks when confronted with long-buried truths.”

I nodded in acknowledgment but made no promises. Trust was in short supply these days, especially after Kazimir’s betrayal at the Gilded Gallows. And the last thing I needed was him hovering over me, trying to protect me from my own memories.

No, this was something I would face alone. Whatever horrors awaited me in the locked chambers of my mind, I would confront them on my own terms. After all, I was Arabella Blackrose, Dark Lady of Skyspire, wife to the most feared villain in the Western Realms.

And I was done letting others decide what truths I was allowed to know.

32 Realize You’re in Love

(at the Exact Moment You Become Her Greatest Threat)

Kazimir

The skull of a dead god made for an interesting conversation piece.

Even for me—a man who has witnessed demons tear themselves apart and watched a necromancer puppeteer an entire village with nothing but a flute and some creative finger movements—the sight was impressive.

“Do you think it can still hear us?” Arabella asked, tilting her head for a better look. We’d arrived early to the ritual chamber so I could assess the space without the Alchemist’s watchful presence.