Page 195 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

The warmth of Kazimir’s palm against my lower back pulled me back to the present—to this man who’d become my everything. I leaned into him, drawing on the power radiating from his frame even while he was dancing.

“Kaz—”

“You have people now,” he said firmly, as if he’d known where my mind had wandered. “A family, dysfunctional as it is. Griffin might blow things up and Thorne communicates primarily in grunts, but they’re yours. We’re yours.”

“And I’m yours,” I said softly.

His expression shifted. “I know.”

The moment stretched between us. Then I rose on my toes and kissed him, tasting mulled wine and spiced pear.

When we broke apart, I took his hand, feeling that his ring was as warm as mine. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To our chambers.” I pulled him toward the door. “You promised me another present.”

56 Get Dragged Out of Bed

(for Apocalyptic News and Dead Flowers)

Arabella

The pounding on our chamber door could have woken the dead. Which, given Griffin’s recent experiments, wasn’t entirely hyperbole.

“Go away,” Kazimir growled into my hair, his arm tightening around my waist.

The pounding intensified. “Lady Blackrose! Lord Blackrose! It’s urgent!”

Sebastian. Of course it was Sebastian. I groaned, burying my face deeper into my pillow. “What time is it?”

“Too fucking early. It’s not even light yet.” Kazimir’s voice rumbled through his chest, the vibration doing interesting things to my already oversensitive body. Last night’s birthday celebrations had extended well past midnight, and I was deliciously sore in all the best ways.

His shadows began to stir, responding to his irritation. I reluctantly extracted myself from my husband’s embrace, ignoring his sound of protest. “Five minutes!” I called through the door.

I fumbled for a robe, trying to make myself presentable while Kazimir remained sprawled naked across our bed. “You’re not getting up?” I asked, hunting for something to tie my hair back with.

“I’m contemplating murder. It requires focus.”

“Kazimir.”

“Fine.” He rolled out of bed, yanking on pants but not bothering with a shirt.

I opened the door to find Sebastian looking haggard, his usually perfect hair messy and sticking out in interesting directions. Flowers—wilted and gray—were blooming along his collar. “If this is about Torok challenging another child to combat—”

“It’s not!” Sebastian’s voice cracked. His eyes widened as he took in Kazimir’s state of undress, then immediately snapped back to my face. “I—sorry. I’m so sorry. But we have a problem.”

“When don’t we?” Kazimir leaned against the door, radiating menace despite—or perhaps because of—his lack of shirt. “Speak quickly, before I remember how much I enjoy throwing people off lightning bridges.”

Sebastian swallowed hard. “Auremar’s accelerated his timeline. My contact in Solandris just sent word that he’s taken more people.”

The last vestiges of sleep evaporated. “How many?”

“At least thirty individuals with confirmed heroic bloodlines. Including…” He thrust a crumpled paper at me. “Including multiple Princess Violets who’d gone into hiding when they heard Auremar was collecting people. He found them anyway.”

Kazimir read over my shoulder, his body radiating heat and barely contained violence. “When?”

“Two nights ago.” Sebastian’s hands shook as more flowers bloomed and immediately withered at his feet. “My contact only just managed to get word out. The captives are being held in the lower levels of Sunspire Palace, and”—Sebastian’s voice cracked—“he’s already started preparations for some kind of mass ritual. Something about the moon phases being optimal in five days.”