Page 18 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“Will be too busy trying to figure out why their defensive spells aren’t stopping me to mount any real counterattack. By the time they realize something’s wrong, it’ll be too late.”

After all these years of being held at bay by their damned Golden Roses and sanctimonious king, I was finally here. Finally ready to carve my name into their precious kingdom.

Arabella shifted beside me. Even dressed for war, she was devastating. She’d braided her hair back for battle, wearing light armor from the armory. She’d grumbled about it again this morning, but I’d insisted. My wife wasn’t yet battle-hardened and going into a conflict without protection was folly.

Behind us, our forces waited in perfect silence. Not the massive army I’d eventually need to take the capital of Sunspire, but more than enough for this. Shadow warriors crouched between my human soldiers, their forms fully opaque. The fighters I’d brought were veterans, handpicked for this first strike, with the bulk remaining at the pass, awaiting orders to march.

My runes sang for violence. It had been too long since I’d let loose and painted a battlefield with terror.

“Watch and learn,” I repeated to Arabella, though I knew she’d do more than watch. My wife was no passive observer—she’d want her own taste of conquest before the sun rose.

I closed my eyes and drew in a breath of predawn air. The outpost below had three main defensive positions: the gate, the eastern tower, and the barracks. Traditional siege tactics would have us bombard the walls, maybe attempt to scale them under cover of archer fire.

Boring. Predictable. Not my style.

I whispered into the wind, letting my dominion magic seep into the words and send them toward the main gate. The spell was delicate—not a hammer blow but a needle. Their minds were soft, pliable things, full of homesickness and boredom.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then the screaming started.

A guard stumbled back from his post, sword drawn, eyes wide with terror. He had just seen his companion’s face melt and re-form into something from his deepest nightmares. He swung his sword in a wild arc, catching his fellow soldier across the throat. Blood sprayed in the torchlight as more guards rushed to help, only to fall victim to the same illusions.

“What did you—” Arabella started.

“Watch.”

More screams erupted along the wall as my illusions took hold. Guards turned on one another with savage desperation, seeing demons where their brothers stood. One man threw himself from the ramparts rather than face whatever horror my magic showed him. Another curled into a ball, sobbing for his mother while his comrades tore one another apart around him.

Beside me, Arabella was gaping.

I smirked. “Learn.”

The infection spread. My dominion magic jumped from mind to mind like a plague, each guard’s terror feeding the next. Within minutes, the eastern wall was a charnel house of self-inflicted carnage.

With the gate guards busy murdering one another, I turned my attention to the rest of the outpost. “Now,” I commanded.

Our forces surged forward like a black tide. Shadow warriors flowed over the walls while my human soldiers charged the gates—gates now conveniently undefended, their guards too busy dying at their own hands.

I vaulted onto my horse and rode toward the carnage, Arabella beside me. Through our bond, I felt her excitement spike, tinged with something darker. She was learning to love this—the power, the chaos, the absolute dominion over life and death.

And I had never been more in awe of her.

The gates hung open, one guard still twitching in a pool of his own blood while another cowered in the corner, whimpering about the eyes in the walls. I rode past without a second glance. The courtyard beyond was pure chaos—soldiers half-dressed, stumbling over one another, swinging at shadows and friends alike.

A robed figure stumbled from the tower, hands weaving defensive wards. The mage’s face was pale with confusion and fear. “The barriers! How—”

I didn’t let him finish. A tendril of shadow lashed out, wrapping around his throat and lifting him off the ground. His hands clawed uselessly at the darkness as I rode closer.

“Surprise,” I said pleasantly, watching his eyes bulge with the realization that everything he’d been taught about Solandris’s protection was a lie.

I released the spell. He dropped like a stone, gasping. Before he could recover, one of my shadow warriors descended on him, blade finding flesh with brutal efficiency.

A captain tried to rally the soldiers. “Form ranks! It’s just illusions, you fools! Form—”

My blade took his head before he could finish. Blood sprayed across my face, hot and metallic. The familiar rush of battle sang through my veins, better than wine, better than anything except being buried inside my wife.

I spun, catching a desperate sword thrust on my blade. The soldier’s eyes were clear—one of the few who’d resisted my initial spell. I drove my sword through his chest and watched the light fade from his eyes.