Page 181 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“How do you think I feel?” My voice broke. “I betrayed her trust. I became exactly what she feared I would be.”

The shadows reached my throat. Squeezed.

No, I told them. They reluctantly retreated.

“Did you?” Vex tilted her head. “Or did you make a mistake? There’s a difference, you know.”

“Not to Arabella.”

“Have you asked her?”

I hadn’t. We’d barely spoken since returning from the Spire, both of us too busy with the preparations for the ritual, the gathering of bloodlines, the constant threats from all sides.

Or at least, that’s what I told myself. The truth was simpler and more terrifying: I was afraid of what she’d say.

“This reminds me of something,” Vex said, her voice distant. “Do you remember the first time I called you by your name? Not ‘my lord’ or ‘Dark Lord’ or any of your other titles. Just Kazimir.”

I frowned, searching my memory through the fog of emotion. “After the demon. When I was still…” I trailed off, unwilling to name the broken thing I’d been then.

Unwilling to acknowledge how close I was to becoming that broken thing again.

She nodded. “Almost fifteen years ago now. You were drowning yourself in rage. Using it as a shield against everything else you were feeling.”

The memories surfaced, sharp and jagged. The pain had been too intense then, the humiliation too complete. I’d been eighteen, betrayed by my allies, sold to a demon prince who’d seen me as nothing more than a toy to break.

And break me he had, in ways I still couldn’t fully recall.

The runes burned hotter. My vision swam.

“You brought me out of it,” I said quietly.

“I reminded you that you were still human,” Vex corrected. “That feeling pain didn’t make you weak. It made you alive.”

Alive, the voice mocked. You’re so much more than alive. You’re eternal. Powerful. Why cling to humanity when divinity awaits?

Frost formed on the tapestry, creeping down the wall. My breath misted in the air.

I’d found Skyspire not long after, guided by instincts I couldn’t explain and dreams I couldn’t remember upon waking. It had been abandoned then, a ruin of a fortress that had once belonged to a forgotten mage. I’d claimed it, rebuilt it, turned it into the seat of my power.

“Why are you bringing this up now?” I managed.

“Because I see the same thing happening again.” She stepped closer, and I had to force myself not to retreat. “You’re using anger to avoid pain. You’re so afraid of what you might have lost that you’re not even trying to find out if it’s still there.”

“That’s not—”

“Isn’t it?” She cut me off, a liberty few would dare take. “You’re the Dark Lord. You’ve conquered kingdoms, broken demons, intimidated poultry. But you can’t bring yourself to have an honest conversation with your wife?”

“What if she can’t forgive me?” The question escaped before I could stop it.

Once again, the shadows surged up my body, responding to my loss of control. They wrapped around my chest, my throat, my face—

I shoved them back with effort that left me gasping.

“What if she can?” Vex countered, her voice gentle but relentless. “What if she’s waiting for you to show her that you understand what went wrong? That you’re willing to do the work to make sure it never happens again?”

“I don’t know how.” The admission came out barely above a whisper. “I’ve never… this isn’t something I’ve had to do before.”

I’d never cared enough to try. Never let anyone close enough to hurt me like this. Never opened myself up to the kind of vulnerability that could destroy me more completely than any demon or battlefield ever had.