Page 166 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“I’m not his toy.”

Her laugh was harsh. “Don’t be naive, darling. Kazimir doesn’t do partnerships. He does ownership.”

The man behind her shifted, and I caught something familiar in the movement. Something that made my blood run cold even before my brain processed why.

“Did you send the assassins, after all?” I asked, buying time while Nyx circled closer overhead. She’d sensed something was wrong and was assessing. “At the God Spire?”

Zaraiah’s perfect nose wrinkled. “That? No. That was Garrick’s idiotic attempt. I could have told him it wouldn’t work, if he’d only asked.”

The Chair of Death. I would have thought he was better at his job. “Then why—”

“Because I have a better plan.” She stepped closer, and I fought the urge to retreat. “I’m turning you over to Auremar.”

My heart stuttered. “What?”

“Oh yes. His Majesty is very interested in acquiring Arabella Blackrose, and the rewards for delivering you will be substantial.”

“The Syndicate—”

“—is done with your husband.” She examined her nails with affected casualness. “The other chairs decided Kazimir has become too much of a wild card. Too powerful. Too unpredictable. And far too obsessed with you to think clearly. Shutting down the Spire proved that.”

And what about the Alchemist? What part did they play in this?

“The Syndicate won’t dare move against him directly,” I said.

“Not yet. But when Kazimir realizes his precious wife is in enemy hands?” She tilted her head. “He’ll come for you. Recklessly. Emotionally. Right into whatever trap Auremar sets. The Syndicate will watch from the sidelines as the Dark Lord destroys himself trying to save you. Then they’ll divide up his territories like civilized villains should.”

“You’re betting everything on him caring that much.”

Her smile turned vicious. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Like you’re the only real thing in his world. Men like Kazimir don’t love often, but when they do?” She laughed. “It destroys them. The Syndicate knows this. So why fight him directly when his weakness is standing right here?”

I probed the dome again with my magic. “What makes you think I’ll let you use me in that way?”

“Because I know exactly what you are.” She moved closer, until she stood just outside the barrier. “A sheltered girl playing at darkness. A healer pretending to be a killer. You might fool others with your dramatic displays, but I see through you.”

The forgettable man behind her stepped into the moonlight, and his features rippled. For a moment, he wore the face of Dean Mortifax from the Academia. I barely felt surprised before that face melted away, revealing freckled cheeks, tousled brown hair, and wide, darting eyes.

“Pip,” I said, shocked.

“Not Pip,” he said, and even his voice was different—deeper, with an accent I couldn’t place. “Never was Pip. That boy died on the road to Skyspire over two years ago. Barely worth the effort to consume, but his invitation to serve the Dark Lord?” He smiled, and too many teeth showed. “That was worth everything.”

My stomach turned. A doppelganger. A fucking doppelganger had been living at Skyspire.

Parasitic demons, the lowest and most reviled of their kind—creatures that survived by literally consuming their victims from the inside out. They didn’t just steal faces; they devoured memories, mannerisms, even opinions, wearing the digested remains of a person’s entire existence like an outer shell. The real Pip’s thoughts, his nervousness, his memories of his carpenter master—all of it had been absorbed and puppeteered by this thing for two years.

No wonder my truth-sense had never caught him. The demon wasn’t lying about being Pip—it was Pip, in the most grotesque way possible.

“Kazimir was right.” The pieces clicked together with sickening clarity. “You let the Hero’s Guild in.”

“Among other things.” He studied me. “You have no idea how tedious it was, playing the nervous servant. Watching. Waiting. Learning every secret passage, every weakness.” His form rippled again. “Then you arrived, and suddenly the Dark Lord had much more interesting vulnerabilities.”

“Why?” My voice came out raw. “Why go to all that trouble?”

His face went hard as stone. “Because fifteen years ago, Kazimir Blackrose seduced and murdered my liege. My creator. The demon prince Malphas.”

Oh.

Oh fuck.