Page 121 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

She stepped back, her expression shuttering. “Of course. Forgive me for caring.”

Fuck. I was making things worse. I opened my mouth—to apologize, to explain, to push her further away—

Thorne’s low whistle cut through the moment. He stood at the end of the corridor, gesturing for us to join him.

I moved toward him, grateful for the interruption. Arabella followed. Nyx materialized ahead of her in another burst of pink-tinged shadow. This time the dragon managed a relatively clean entrance, though she still came out facing the wrong direction and had to turn around with an embarrassed huff.

“Found something?” I asked Thorne.

“Someone.” He jerked his head toward a side passage. “Lady Zaraiah. Heading this way.” He cracked his knuckles. “Funny how she shows up right after assassins try to kill Lady Blackrose.”

My shadows snuffed out the closest sconces. “Indeed.”

“No other chairs were supposed to be at the Spire,” Arabella said quietly.

“They weren’t.” I forced myself to breathe, to think past the rage and paranoia. The fragment screamed for blood and violence and an end to all threats. I shoved it down with brutal force, focusing on strategy instead of slaughter.

Thorne’s scowl turned his scarred face into something feral. “I’d be happy to accidentally stab her, my lord.”

“Let’s see what she has to say first, then go from there.”

Thorne muttered his displeasure just as Zaraiah appeared around the corner, that crimson dress she favored a slash of color against the Spire’s dark stone. She moved with that predatory grace I remembered too well, her eyes lighting up when she spotted us.

She opened her mouth to speak—

And froze.

Nyx had phased directly behind Arabella, rising to her full height with her wings spread wide. The dragon loomed over my wife’s shoulder, a pink-shimmered nightmare of scales and teeth, her liquid silver eyes fixed on Zaraiah.

A low rumble built in the dragon’s chest.

All the color drained from Zaraiah’s face. The Chair of Whispers, who’d faced down armies and kings and survived Syndicate politics, took an involuntary step backward.

“Is that—” Her voice cracked slightly. “Is that a shadow dragon?”

Shadows coiled around Arabella’s hands. “Yes. Wedding gift from my husband. Thoughtful, wasn’t he?”

Nyx’s rumble grew louder, her wings spreading wider until they touched the walls on either side. The pink shimmer of her scales made her look even more otherworldly, like some fever dream given flesh and fury.

Arabella moved before I could stop her, shadows coiling around her hands. She stepped forward, placing herself between Zaraiah and me—a reversal that clearly caught the Chair of Whispers off guard.

“You have exactly ten seconds to explain why you’re here,” Arabella said, her voice cold enough to frost the stone, “before I test whether my healing magic works in reverse on Syndicate chairs.”

Zaraiah’s gaze darted between Arabella and the very large, very pink, very angry dragon currently looming over my wife. She’d expected me to be the threat, not my wife and a dragon. “My, my,” she managed. “Marriage has given you teeth, hasn’t it, little hero?”

“Six seconds.”

Nyx chose that moment to bare her own teeth and release a puff of purple smoke that smelled of brimstone.

Zaraiah flinched.

I should have stopped this. Should have stepped in, taken control of the situation. But the fragment was howling for blood, and watching Arabella defend me from a woman who’d tried to weaponize my worst trauma sent something fierce and possessive surging through my chest.

And Nyx… Nyx was magnificent. The ridiculous pink dragon who’d spent the last hour getting stuck in walls was now every inch the apex predator, radiating menace with a competence she’d been thoroughly lacking all evening.

For a moment—just a moment—the fragment’s screaming dimmed to background noise. This is real. She is real. We are real.

“I’m here,” Zaraiah said, her eyes never leaving the dragon, “meeting with a contact about the eastern trade routes. Your lockdown is interfering with my schedule.”