Page 206 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“So we use Evenfall as bait,” he said, returning to the safer topic of strategy. “Let him think he’s escaped on his own, but make sure he overhears just enough to make him valuable to Auremar.”

“And then what? Once he’s served his purpose?”

Kazimir shrugged. “He stays with Auremar and goes down with that sinking ship, or he tries to run and gets caught in the cross fire. Auremar is likely to kill him once he gets the information, anyway.”

I nodded, turning back to my battle leathers. The jerkin was reinforced with thin plates of enchanted metal between layers of supple leather, offering protection without sacrificing mobility. The pants were similarly constructed, with additional padding at the knees and thighs. All of it was dyed black to blend with shadows.

Kazimir ran his fingers over the intricate stitching. “I’d prefer you didn’t need these at all.”

I should tell him. The words burned in my throat. Three simple words that had become so complicated. My mother had loved freely, openly, and look where it had gotten her. But she’d also lived fully, without the regrets that came from silence.

We both spoke at the same time.

“Kaz, I—”

“If anything happens tomorrow—”

“Don’t.” I pressed my fingers to his lips. “We’re not doing deathbed confessions before the battle even starts. It’s bad luck.”

He caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Since when are you superstitious?”

“Since I married the Dark Lord and started fighting ancient evils.” I tried to keep my tone light, but my heart was pounding. Part of me wanted to tell him everything—that I loved him, that I’d never felt this way about anyone, that the thought of losing him terrified me more than any battle.

But maybe it wasn’t the time. Kazimir had been struggling with something these past few days. I’d seen it in the tension around his eyes, heard it in the way he sometimes muttered to himself when he thought I wasn’t listening. Whatever war he was fighting inside his head, I wasn’t sure if my declaration would help or hinder him.

And tomorrow, we needed him focused. We needed the ruthless, calculating Dark Lord who could outmaneuver Auremar and lead an army. My feelings could wait.

“Big day of villainy tomorrow,” I said instead.

Kazimir nodded, but his eyes lingered on my face as if searching for something. “Right. I’ll arrange for Evenfall’s ‘escape’—”

“—and then let’s go scandalize the staff one more time before we save the world.”

As we left the armory, I cast one last look at the throwing knives arranged on the table. Tomorrow, I’d be using them for real. And maybe, if we survived, I’d find the courage to tell Kazimir what he meant to me.

60 Make It Look Convincing

(with Fists and Blood Magic)

Kazimir

I’d always found the smell of stone, iron, and despair in the dungeons comforting. Tonight, however, I was in no mood to savor it.

“You’re certain you want to be here for this?” I asked Arabella as we descended the spiral staircase.

“I’m not letting you have all the fun,” she replied, her voice steady despite the shadows playing across her face. The orbs floating above us cast her features in sharp relief, highlighting the determined set of her jaw. “Besides, he’s my father. I should be involved in his release.”

The way she said “release” made it clear she understood exactly what we were doing. This wasn’t mercy. This was strategy wrapped in cruelty—my favorite kind.

We reached the bottom of the stairs and navigated the narrow corridor that led to the isolation cells. I felt the shadow wolf still pacing just inside Evenfall’s door, its forms rippling slightly in the dim light. It bowed its head as we approached, then melted into the walls, returning to the shadows from which I’d summoned them.

I placed my hand on the heavy iron door, feeling the wards hum against my palm. “Last chance to change your mind.”

Arabella’s eyes met mine. “Open it.”

The wards recognized my magic and dissolved with a faint sizzle. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, revealing the man who had imprisoned his own daughter.

I hadn’t forgotten my earlier threat to her father. I figured I’d still get my chance. He was a sniveling whiny bastard, and those types often ended up living through some scheme or other.