Page 193 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Nyx contributed by stealing entire roasted chickens when she thought no one was looking, though we all pretended not to notice. At one point, she and Griffin engaged in what could only be described as a staring contest over the last honey-glazed ham. Griffin lost.

Even Kazimir relaxed, the tension that had been riding him for days easing as he watched me open presents. Vex gave me a set of throwing knives (“For when magic just won’t do”). Griffin presented me with a self-warming cloak that definitely wouldn’t explode (“I’m seventy percent certain!”). Thorne’s gift was practical—a leather journal warded against magical interference, perfect for keeping notes on our research.

Nyx, not to be outdone, disappeared briefly and returned dragging something that clinked. She deposited it at my feet with obvious pride—a small chest filled with various shiny objects she’d been hoarding. Coins, jeweled buttons, what looked suspiciously like Lord Saltieri’s missing cufflinks, and…

“Is that my hairpin?” Vex asked, reaching for a silver piece.

Nyx’s tail swept it back into the pile, her eyes narrowing. Apparently, once gifted to me, there were no take-backs no matter their origin.

Sebastian gave me a pressed flower in a crystal frame. “From your mother’s garden,” he said quietly. “I saved it years ago and had my father send it. Thought you might want something to remember the good times.”

I had to blink away tears at that one.

“And this,” Kazimir said, producing a small black box, “is from me.”

Inside was a ring—not strange and macabre like our wedding bands, but a simple band of dark metal set with a black moonstone. The stone appeared nearly opaque at first glance, dark as a starless night. But when I tilted it, flashes of blue fire and silver streaks suddenly flared across its surface. The effect was subtle, intimate—beauty that only revealed itself to those paying close attention.

His signet—black roses wrapped around a bleeding sword—was etched into the band. But it had been altered. The roses alternated between gold and black when I tilted it back and forth. Black for Kaz, gold for me.

“I figured the family crest could use an update. It’s connected to mine.” He showed me an identical band on his right hand. “When you’re feeling something strongly about me, mine warms. When I’m feeling something about you, yours does the same. Sentiment rings.” A wry smile. “Fair warning—I have no idea how to turn it off.”

“Kaz.” I slipped it onto my finger, feeling the magic settle against my skin. “It’s beautiful.”

“Useful,” he corrected, but his eyes were soft. “Beautiful is just a bonus.”

“Like you, then,” I said without thinking, then felt heat flood my cheeks as everyone laughed.

Nyx rumbled her amusement, nudging me with her snout.

“Smooth, my lady,” Sebastian teased. “Very smooth.”

“Shut up and cut the cake.” I wiped a stray tear from my face and kissed Kaz, my lips lingering on his. When I pulled back, I held his gaze. “I love it—thank you.”

He smiled and took my hand to look at the ring on it. “I enchanted it myself. No chance of anyone else tampering with it or causing accidental explosions.” He said the last with a pointed glare at Griffin, who was oblivious as he whooped at the way the icing sparkled when the cake was cut.

Kaz leaned in to whisper seductively in my ear. “And you’ll have another birthday present coming later. I hope you’ll love it just as much.”

I whispered back. “Is your ring telling you how I feel about that?”

His lips brushed my ear. “The ring’s telling me you’re already imagining it.”

More heat bloomed across my cheeks as my own ring pulsed warm against my finger.

The cake was, as promised, magical. The first bite tasted like the honey cakes our cook used to make, before my mother died—they reminded me a bit too strongly of Sebastian, but I let it slide. The second layer was pure nostalgia—the strawberry tarts from the summer festival, when I was a child and still believed in happy endings. The final layer…

“Spiced pear and…” I looked at Sebastian in surprise. “Mulled wine?”

He grinned. “Lord Blackrose suggested the flavor, but he wouldn’t say why. Just insisted it had to be this one.” His eyes sparkled with curiosity. “I assume there’s a story?”

I glanced at my husband, who was very deliberately studying his wineglass. Heat crept up my neck as I remembered that night—the kitchen, the blankets, his confession that he had no interest in trifles because he was “sufficiently occupied with one infuriating woman.”

“There might be,” I said softly.

Kazimir leaned close, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “It was one of the first times I knew I was falling for you.”

My breath caught. The memory sharpened—his hands braced on either side of me on the counter, the possessive heat in his eyes when he’d said, “What’s mine stays mine,” the way he’d left me alone in his bed rather than push for more.

“You left that night,” I whispered back. “Walked away.”