Page 189 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

The Alchemist laughed—a sound like wind chimes in a graveyard. “Feelings. How delightfully mortal of you.”

My shadows darkened the cell. “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not mocking.” They settled back onto the floor, arranging their robes carefully. “I’m observing. You believe your feelings make you vulnerable.”

“They do.” The words tasted bitter. “The thoughts are more intrusive when I’m around my wife or remembering certain events.”

“Then you’re thinking about it wrong.” The Alchemist stood again as if they couldn’t bear to be still, moving to the small window that looked out over the swirling mists below. “The Shadow King was defeated once before. Do you know how?”

“The First Hero bound him with blood magic and Golden Roses.” Though there were few texts on the subject, I’d barely slept for days, and I’d had time to think about everything we’d learned.

“Partially correct.” The Alchemist turned back to me. “But Soriven didn’t defeat the Shadow King through power alone. He won because he had something the Shadow King didn’t.”

“Which was?”

“Love.” The word hung in the air between us, sickeningly sweet. “Soriven loved his people, his land, his family. That love gave him the strength to do what was necessary, no matter how terrible.”

I thought of Arabella again, of the way she’d looked at me in the training room. How she’d put aside her own pain to ask about mine.

“Love makes me vulnerable,” I insisted. “It gives the Shadow King leverage.”

“Does it?” The Alchemist tilted their head. “Or does it give you a reason to fight?”

I had no answer for that.

“You must keep your loved ones close,” they continued. “Not despite the danger, but because of it. They remind you who you are. Who you choose to be.”

The words echoed Vex’s advice from earlier in the day so intimately that for a moment I wondered if she’d been to see the Alchemist. But I realized she couldn’t have, and wouldn’t. “And if I fail? If the Shadow King uses my feelings against them?”

“Then you’ll have failed trying to be human.” They shrugged. “There are worse ways to fall.”

I stood abruptly. “If I fall,” I growled, “so does your chance of stopping the Shadow King.”

Before they could respond, footsteps echoed down the corridor. Light, confident, familiar. Arabella. The Alchemist heard her too.

“Does your charming wife know about your… condition?”

Frost spread across the stones as my magic responded to the threat. “No.”

“I see.” They didn’t seem bothered by the sudden cold. “And you’d prefer it stays that way?”

I lowered my voice. “If you tell her—anyone—about this, I’ll make what I did to those assassins look like mercy. I might even give in to the Shadow King out of spite.”

I wouldn’t. I’d die before I let that ancient darkness have Arabella. But the Alchemist didn’t need to know that.

“Understood.” They inclined their head. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Kazimir?” Arabella’s voice carried a note of irritation. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming down here?”

She appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips, looking beautifully annoyed. Her hair was slightly mussed from dealing with our houseguests, and there was a smudge of something—ink or soot?—on her cheek. I wondered if she’d set anyone on fire—that hadn’t happened lately and she was overdue.

“I haven’t been here long,” I said, moving to her side. “Good news, though. The Alchemist has agreed to continue helping us.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly—she knew I was deflecting—but she let it go. Instead, she conjured her own chair and sat down with the air of someone settling in for a long conversation. “Then let’s hear what they have to say.”

The Alchemist watched our interaction with obvious interest. I could practically see them cataloging every glance, every small gesture. “Very well,” they said finally. “Let’s ensure we’re all on the same page, shall we?”

They began pacing again, robes shifting through a spectrum of dark colors. “King Auremar has been manipulating the Golden Rose Fields for years, using them to enhance his own power while maintaining the fiction of their sacred nature. The roses aren’t just magical plants. They’re channels between our world and the dimension where the Shadow King is—or was—bound.”