Page 178 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Tell me again,” I said to Vex, who stood with her clipboard, “why they brought livestock?”

I stood in the Great Hall, watching with growing horror as yet another family of twelve unpacked their belongings. The Moonbays had brought their entire household staff. The Tidehavens had arrived with seventeen trunks of “essentials.” And somewhere in the chaos, a rooster crowed.

“That would be Ferdinand.” Vex made a note. “Lady Elena Clearwater’s half brother insisted he was family.”

“It’s a rooster.”

“Yes, my lord.” Another note. “Marna is threatening to serve coq au vin for dinner.”

I watched as two children raced past, shrieking with laughter. One of them knocked over a suit of armor.

“The dungeons,” I said, not for the first time today. “We could put them all in the dungeons. They’d be much easier to manage.”

“Lady Blackrose would object.”

I rubbed my temples. “Lady Blackrose is in our chambers, avoiding this chaos like the clever woman she is.”

Sebastian appeared at my elbow, looking harried. “Actually, she’s in the training room. Said something about needing to hit things.”

Of course. She was just as keyed up as I was. I’d barely had a chance to tell her how proud I was of how she’d handled Zaraiah and Pip, though I had many reasons for wishing I’d been there myself.

For the fun, obviously.

The Syndicate’s betrayal gnawed at me—Zaraiah’s attack on my wife, and Pip’s treachery finally explained. My shadows had twitched restlessly since Arabella’s recounting, eager for vengeance I couldn’t yet claim.

But rage without strategy was just noise. The Syndicate would answer for their games, but first we had to survive long enough to make them regret it.

“Speaking of chaos,” Sebastian continued, “I’ve done a full accounting. Auremar got to more bloodlines than we thought. At least thirty in Valmont alone.”

“How many did you manage to save in Solandris?”

“Forty-three of the lesser bloodlines.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I brought them all when I came back two days ago. Before I went after Arabella.”

“Forty-three.” I stared at him. “By yourself?”

Sebastian nodded to a far table near the back of the hall. The entire cluster of them—bastards and forgotten branches, the kind of people who’d never seen the inside of a proper keep—pressed together at the far end of the hall like rabbits cornered by wolves. Their wide eyes tracked every shout, every clash of silverware, every burst of indignant squawking from the demon rooster.

They looked exactly how I felt.

A crash echoed from somewhere. Vex sighed and made another note.

“I’m still not sure why they’re all gathered here instead of being silent as the grave in their rooms.”

She looked at me with an arched brow. “There’s nowhere else safe for them to congregate, my lord, and locking them in their rooms would be the equivalent of putting them in the dungeons.”

“Exactly. It’s perfectly harmless.”

“Anyway, Griffin’s supervising.” Vex paused. “Well, attempting to supervise. Last I saw, they’d convinced him to demonstrate his self-writing poetry quills.”

Griffin was scrambling between tables, lunging for animated quills that darted just out of reach. Teenagers shrieked with laughter as the quills scrawled across napkins. Lady Coralia Montaven pressed one hand to her chest, her mouth forming a perfect O of horror. Meanwhile, someone Vex had called “Aunt Cordy” held a completed sonnet at arm’s length, cackling like a woman half her age.

“The quills that only write erotic sonnets about tentacles?” I asked.

“Those would be the ones.”

I was going to need a stiff drink. “How many heroic guests are currently in my fortress?”

Vex consulted her clipboard. “Seventy-eight of heroic bloodlines with their family members equals two hundred thirty-one total.”