Page 188 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Evenfall’s face went pale.

I let my dominion magic fill the corridor with the scent of ozone and winter storms. My eyes flared silver as more shadows writhed along the walls of his cell, responding to the raw power I was channeling. I wanted him to see a figure of terror, one who would deliver on each promise of violence.

“As soon as Lady Blackrose gives the word,” I said in a soft, dangerous voice. “I’ll come for you, Evenfall. Mine will be the last face you ever see.”

One of the shadow wolves drifted through the door of the cell and became solid. It looked real, with its hair and gleaming teeth. The smell of a predator filled the space, and it snarled silently. Evenfall was about to piss his pants—pity I couldn’t wait around to watch.

I turned away from the cell. I’d leave the construct there for a while. Evenfall’s desperate sob echoed off the stone as I descended deeper into the dungeons. The Alchemist waited in the most secure cell we had, and I needed answers more than I needed to torment Arabella’s pathetic excuse for a father.

Though I had to admit, it had been satisfying.

See? the Shadow King murmured. You enjoy the cruelty. We’re not so different.

I rebuilt my mental walls in preparation for the conversation with the Alchemist. As a bonus, it also cut off the Shadow King’s laughter.

54 Consult the Expert

(Who Definitely Knows You’re Possessed)

Kazimir

The Alchemist’s cell was in the secure wing, behind three sets of wards and a door that could only be opened by my blood. I’d been generous, with a proper cot, a desk, even some books. They’d been here less than a day, but I hoped it was enough time for reflection.

I pressed my palm to the door, feeling the familiar sting as the ward tasted my blood. The locks clicked open.

The Alchemist sat cross-legged on the floor, their robes pooled around them in shifting colors. They didn’t look up. “Lord Blackrose.” Their voice held that same musical quality that had always set my teeth on edge. “Come to gloat? Or perhaps to threaten more creatively than yesterday?”

“Neither.” I conjured a chair and sat facing them. “I need your knowledge, as we discussed. Unless you’d like to release my wife and me from your task.”

“Ah.” They finally looked up. “The mighty Dark Lord needs something from his prisoner.”

I resisted the urge to wrap shadows around their throat. Barely. “Are you being deliberately difficult? You know what’s happening to the ley lines. You know about the Shadow King’s prison.”

“I know many things.” They tilted their head, studying me. “Including what you are.”

I kept my expression neutral, but inside, the Shadow King stirred, sensing danger.

I slammed mental walls between us, focusing on the Alchemist’s masked face. “And what exactly do you think I am?”

“A man fighting a war on two fronts.” They rose gracefully, robes shifting from green to purple to gold. “One against Auremar and his machinations. The other…” They tapped their temple. “Against yourself.”

I said nothing. Denial would be pointless; confirmation could be equally dangerous.

“The question,” the Alchemist continued, beginning to pace the small cell, “is whether you’re winning either battle.”

“I’m managing.”

“Are you?” They stopped directly in front of me. “Tell me, Lord Blackrose—can you learn sensitive information without making certain aspects of yourself aware?”

The question was so precisely targeted I nearly flinched.

“Yes,” I said carefully. “I’ve been practicing. I can compartmentalize when needed.”

“Fascinating.” They resumed pacing. “And when is it most difficult?”

I thought of Arabella, of how the whispers grew louder whenever she was near. How the Shadow King’s hunger sharpened into something almost painful when she smiled at me, touched me, challenged me.

“When I’m having… feelings,” I admitted through gritted teeth.