Page 200 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“A fraud who’s been siphoning power from a magical prison to fuel his kingdom’s prosperity,” I interrupted. “The Golden Rose Fields? They’re not just pretty flowers. They’re anchor points that Auremar has been systematically weakening by sacrificing people like you.”

“You expect us to believe—” someone started.

“I expect you to use your brains,” I snapped, my patience already fraying. “Why else would the Dark Lord and the last free scion of House Evenfall bother collecting random nobles and their families? For fun? We have better things to do with our time.”

“Like conquering kingdoms,” someone muttered.

“Yes, actually.” I let a bit of irritation creep into my voice. “My husband was in the middle of invading Solandris when we discovered Auremar’s plan. Do you think he abandoned a military campaign to play innkeeper out of the goodness of his heart?”

That gave them pause. Even Lord Brightwater looked thoughtful.

Sebastian stepped forward, and immediately half the room relaxed. Say what you would about his political effectiveness, but people instinctively trusted him.

“It’s true,” he said quietly. “All of it. I’ve seen the evidence. Auremar tried to capture me for the same reason. My bloodline, your bloodlines—we’re all keys to a lock that should never be opened.”

“But why should we help you?” Lady Goldmary asked. “You kidnapped us!”

“Because the alternative is letting Auremar complete his ritual and unleash something that makes my husband look like a children’s birthday entertainer. The Shadow King doesn’t just want to rule,” I continued, letting real fear color my voice. “He wants revenge. More than seventeen hundred years of imprisonment, and guess whose bloodline put him there? Ours. Every person in this room carries Soriven’s legacy in their veins.”

I paused, meeting their eyes one by one. “When he rises—and he will if we don’t act—he won’t just kill us. He’ll make examples of us. Our children, our families, anyone who shares even a drop of heroic blood will be hunted down and destroyed in ways that would make the worst stories seem like mercy.”

Sera Marenti-Cross pulled her son closer. Even Lord Brightwater had gone pale.

One of the Fekete twins leaned forward. “What exactly are you asking of us?”

This was the tricky part. “There’s a cleansing ritual. One that can cast the Shadow King out of the ley lines and strengthen his prison. But it requires the willing participation of those with heroic blood.”

“Blood magic.” Lord Brightwater’s voice was flat. “You’re asking us to participate in blood magic.”

“A few drops,” I said. “Willingly given. No one’s being sacrificed, no one’s being drained. Think of it as donating to a cause.”

“The cause being saving the world,” Sebastian added helpfully. A small garden was now growing around his feet.

“And if we refuse?” someone called from the back.

I met their gaze steadily. “Then we all die when the Shadow King breaks free. But hey, at least you’ll have maintained your moral high ground.”

“That’s not helpful,” Sebastian murmured.

“Neither is stubborn refusal to see reason,” I shot back.

The room dissolved into arguments. Some people seemed convinced, others violently opposed. Lord Brightwater was loudly declaring that he’d rather die than participate in dark magic, which several people pointed out was exactly what would happen.

“ENOUGH!” I let power roll through my voice, shadows dancing at the edges of the room. Everyone fell silent. “King Auremar has captured more families. People just like you, with children just like yours. In five days, he plans to sacrifice them, and he’ll break the prison completely.”

Gasps echoed through the hall.

“We’re mounting a rescue,” I continued. “But even if we succeed, we need your help to perform the cleansing ritual. This isn’t about politics or power plays. This is about survival. And if you can’t see past your prejudices long enough to save your own lives, then you’re not the heroes your bloodline suggests you should be.”

“How do we know this isn’t all an elaborate trick?” Lady Clearwater asked.

“You don’t,” I admitted. “But consider this—if we wanted to use your blood for nefarious purposes, would we be asking permission? We have you all here, defenseless. If we were the villains you think we are, we’d have taken what we needed already.”

That uncomfortable truth settled over the room.

“I’ll do it,” a small voice said.

Everyone turned to see Lady Moonbay’s daughter, barely thirteen, standing with her chin raised. “If it saves people, I’ll do it.”