Page 199 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“If the extraction goes bad, you run. You take the portal and you run.”

“Kazimir—”

“Promise me.” His hands cupped my face. “I can’t lead the distraction if I’m worried about you.”

I saw the fear beneath the command. Whatever was happening to him, his terror of losing me was overriding everything else.

“I promise to make smart choices,” I said carefully. “But I won’t abandon the prisoners. Or Sebastian. Or Thorne.”

His jaw clenched. “Arabella—”

“That’s the best you’re getting.” I kissed him again, softer this time. “Trust me to handle my part. I’ll trust you to handle yours.”

He exhaled slowly. “You’re infuriating.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” The admission seemed to surprise him. “Be careful with the heroic bloodlines. Some of them might have opinions about helping the Dark Lord save the world.”

“I’ll emphasize the ‘save the world’ part and downplay the ‘Dark Lord’ part.”

“Lying by omission. I’m so proud.” He pulled me in for another quick, fierce kiss. “Don’t let Torok challenge you to a duel.”

“Please. I’d destroy him.”

57 Convince Heroes to Bleed for the Greater Good

(It’s Surprisingly Difficult)

Arabella

I found Sebastian waiting in the corridor. More flowers—these a sickly yellow—were already sprouting from the stone floor around him.

“Ready to convince a bunch of terrified nobles that bleeding for us is actually a good idea?” I asked.

“Nothing I enjoy more than public speaking to hostile audiences while the world ends.” He fell into step beside me. “How do we even start? ‘Hello, we kidnapped you for your own good, now please donate your blood to stop an ancient evil’?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘Congratulations on not being ritually sacrificed by King Auremar, would you like to help ensure that continues?’ ”

We made our way to the Great Hall, where Vex had gathered most of our “guests” for what she’d called an “informational meeting about your temporary accommodations.” The noise hit us before we even opened the doors—dozens of voices raised in complaint, confusion, and in Lord Janos Torok’s case, challenges to single combat.

“Deep breath,” I told Sebastian. “We’re about to walk into a room full of people who have every reason to distrust us and ask them to voluntarily participate in blood magic.”

Another flower—this one black—bloomed and immediately crumbled to ash on his shoulder. He brushed away the remains as I pushed open the doors.

The Great Hall fell silent as we entered. Seventy-eight pairs of eyes turned to us with expressions ranging from suspicious to openly hostile. Torok, predictably, had his hand on where his sword would be if we hadn’t confiscated all weapons.

“Lady Blackrose,” Lady Kovacs spoke first, her voice carefully neutral. “We’ve been gathered here for days with no explanation beyond ‘for your protection.’ I think we deserve answers.”

“You’re right,” I said, moving to the front of the room. Sebastian took position slightly behind me, flowers now growing in a nervous rainbow at his feet. “You all deserve the truth.”

“Which is?” Lord Brightwater demanded.

I took a breath. Here went nothing. “If you haven’t already heard, King Auremar has been systematically hunting down and capturing everyone with heroic bloodlines. What you might not know is that it isn’t for political marriages or alliances, but for a ritual that will free an ancient evil called the Shadow King from his prison beneath Solandris.”

After a beat of silence, the room erupted. Denials, gasps, accusations of madness. The Fekete twins laughed in sync, which was creepy.

“Preposterous!” Lord Brightwater’s face had gone an alarming shade of purple. “King Auremar is—”