Page 142 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Try again,” Kaz commanded, his voice carrying that particular edge that meant his patience was wearing thin.

I stood in the center of the training room, sweat beading on my forehead. We’d spent the last two days preparing for our respective missions. Portal magic had been Kazimir’s nonnegotiable addition to my training before we separated. His version of a goodbye gift—an impossible spell and a morning to learn it.

“I am trying,” I shot back, attempting the portal incantation for what felt like the hundredth time. My hands traced the required runes in the air, shadow magic gathering at my fingertips. “Maybe if you explained it better instead of just barking ‘wrong’ every time—”

“Your wrist angle is off by three degrees.” He demonstrated the gesture. “And you’re rushing the third syllable. Portal magic requires exactitude, not enthusiasm.”

“Exactitude,” I muttered, mimicking his tone. “Right. Because that’s definitely my strong suit.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips before he caught himself. We’d been dancing around each other like this for the past hour—him trying to maintain professional distance, me trying to pretend I didn’t notice the way his eyes kept drifting to where my leathers hugged my curves. It felt like old times.

“This is emergency magic only,” he reminded me for the fifth time. “Short distances. A last resort if you’re cornered.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” He stepped closer, and I caught his scent—more steel today than winter storm. “Because portal magic isn’t like shadow constructs or healing. One miscalculation and you could scatter yourself across three dimensions.”

I took a deep, centering breath. Portal magic was notoriously difficult—not only because it required immense power, but because it demanded precise control. According to Kazimir, it was all about understanding the space between places, the thin membrane of reality that could be pierced and reshaped with the right application of will.

For the tenth time that morning, I gathered my magic, focusing on a spot across the training room. I imagined the air thinning, becoming permeable. With a sharp gesture, I slashed at the invisible barrier.

Nothing happened.

“Fuck,” I muttered, wiping sweat from my brow.

“You’re forcing it,” Kazimir said, stepping closer. “It’s not about brute strength. Think of it like picking a lock, not kicking down a door.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve been doing this for years.”

“And I’m trying to compress years of learning into a single morning,” he replied, his tone softening slightly. “If you’re cornered on Meridian Isle with no other options, a short-distance portal might save your life. But it’s not reliable, and you won’t be able to take anyone with you.”

I frowned at that last part. “So I’d have to leave Vex behind?”

“Yes.”

The thought made me uneasy. I would never abandon a companion in danger. The very idea made my stomach turn, but I didn’t voice it.

Kaz would probably accuse me of heroic tendencies.

“I wish Nyx was big enough to carry both Vex and me,” I said instead, changing the subject. “It would make the Meridian Isle extraction much simpler.”

“That day is rapidly approaching.” Kaz moved behind me, adjusting my stance. “Though mastering flight on a dragon is just as difficult as portal magic. Different skills, same learning curve.”

“You always ruin my best fantasies.”

He chuckled, and his voice dipped low. “Pretty sure I’m terrific at making your fantasies come true.”

Kaz’s chest pressed against my back, and his arms encircled me. His hands hovered over mine, not quite touching. Even through the leather, I could feel the heat of him, the controlled power in his frame. My body responded immediately, a flush spreading across my skin.

I turned to face him, bringing us chest to chest, watching his pupils dilate. “Are you going to teach me this portal magic properly or are we going to keep pretending you’re not staring at my ass?”

“Your stance is crucial for—” He broke off as I deliberately shifted my hips against his. He spun me around, pressing my back against his chest again.

“Attempting to distract your instructor is poor classroom etiquette,” he murmured against my neck.

“Good thing this isn’t a classroom.” I leaned into the hard planes of his body. “And you’re hardly a traditional teacher.”

“I should hope not.” His hand splayed across my stomach, holding me in place.