Page 133 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Or that in his current state, Kazimir could never, ever find out about that kiss.

39 Replace Emotional Honesty with Orgasms

(a Tried-and-True Method)

Kazimir

The Sky Serpent flew low enough over the dark sea that I could taste salt spray when the wind shifted. We’d left the God Spire later than planned—something about Griffin needing to “properly catalog his new apprentice applications” while Sebastian fussed over him like a mother hen.

I checked with Captain Brecca one more time. “Two days to Skyspire if the winds hold, Lord Blackrose.”

“They’ll hold.” I made sure of that with a touch of dominion magic, binding the air currents to our will. The effort sent a familiar ache through my bones, but nothing like the agony from before.

No sky krakens, no rival airships, no heroic interceptors trying to play savior. Just the endless dark of the ocean below and the promise of Skyspire in two days’ time.

Two more days trapped on a ship with this suffocating tension between my wife and me.

The whispers had been quieter since we’d left the Spire, but only marginally. They lurked at the edges of my consciousness like shadows at noon—always there, just harder to see. I needed something to stop this restless energy that had been building since our argument.

Take what’s yours. Make her submit.

I pushed the thoughts aside and made my way to our cabin. Sleep. I needed sleep. Or a fight. Or at least a bottle of something strong enough to knock me unconscious. Then I remembered my private stores contained potions strong enough to knock out a mountain troll. And if those failed, there was always the option of having Thorne hit me over the head.

I wouldn’t dare ask Arabella—she’d probably crack my skull.

I pushed open the door to our cabin, prepared to find it empty. Arabella had been avoiding me with impressive dedication, and I’d expected her to be elsewhere—perhaps with Sebastian and his insufferable flowers, or watching Griffin tinker.

Instead, I found her sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair.

The sight made me suck in a breath. She wore one of her silk nightgowns, the deep blue one that made her skin glow in the lamplight. Each stroke of the brush through her golden hair was methodical, almost meditative. She didn’t look up when I entered, but I saw her shoulders tense.

“Where’s Nyx?” I asked, closing the door behind me. Safe topic. Neutral ground.

“Hunting.” She set the brush down but still didn’t turn. “It’s the first chance she’s had in days. She was getting restless.”

I understood the feeling.

I pulled off my coat. The cabin was small but well-appointed—rich fabrics, polished wood, a bed that would be comfortable if we weren’t both pretending the other didn’t exist. The vanity where Arabella sat dominated one wall, its mirror reflecting the entire space.

“Griffin told me about the Academia.” I kept my tone conversational, testing the waters. “Said you threw half the lecture hall out the windows.”

I moved closer, drawn despite myself, and stopped just behind her chair, close enough to smell the lightly scented oil she used in her hair.

A small smile tugged at her lips. “They were being disrespectful.”

The fierce protectiveness in her voice made pride well in my chest. This was my Arabella—loyal, dangerous, magnificent. I picked up the brush and began working it through her golden strands. She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, letting me continue. The whispers agreed with my assessment of her, though their appreciation was darker. Such power. Such potential. Wasted on protecting that fool Griffin.

“I wish I’d seen it.” And I meant it. Arabella unleashing her power, shadow and light working in harmony, would have been magnificent.

“Speaking of the Spire,” she said, turning on the stool to face me properly. I let go of her hair. “I should tell you something.”

Every muscle in my body went rigid. “Yes?”

“I visited a memory mage. Mnemosyne’s Memories, in the lower markets.” She lifted her chin, as if daring me to challenge her. “I took a potion to restore what was stolen from me.”

“You did what?”

“I’m getting my memories back. I didn’t want you to think something else was wrong when—”