Page 208 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“This will hurt,” I said, not bothering to hide the satisfaction in my voice. “I’d apologize, but we both know I wouldn’t mean it.”

The rune at my throat warmed as I activated it, feeding power into the incantation I spoke. Blood magic was crude—effective, but inelegant compared to my dominion magic. Still, it had its uses. I wanted Evenfall to eventually remember what he’d done, to know he’d been merely a pawn in the villain’s game.

Evenfall screamed as the magic took hold, his back arching unnaturally. The shadows binding him tightened, keeping him from thrashing too violently. Then more shadows shot forward, wrapping around his head and sinking into his eyes, nose, and mouth. He made a choked sound, his body going rigid.

This was the delicate part. Memory alteration was complex magic, requiring precision and control. I couldn’t simply erase his memories—that would make him useless as a carrier of false information. Instead, I had to modify them, creating a convincing narrative of escape and hardship that would explain his condition when he reached Auremar.

I sifted through his recent memories, finding the ones of his imprisonment. I left those intact but added new ones: picking the lock on his cell door with a piece of metal stolen from his food tray, sneaking past guards, fighting his way out of the citadel. I created memories of days spent hiding in forests, stealing food from villages, narrowly avoiding patrols of shadow warriors.

And then, most importantly, I planted the false intelligence: overhearing me discussing plans with my generals to stage a diversion outside Sunspire—something flashy and threatening enough to force Auremar to recall his army from the north and avoid a battle. The memory needed to be convincing but not too obvious. Auremar had to believe it was real intelligence, even if he suspected it might be a trick.

The magic was invasive, violating—and I enjoyed every second of it. Making him believe he’d fought his way to freedom when in reality he was nothing but our puppet felt like poetic justice.

When I finished, I withdrew the shadows. Evenfall collapsed to his knees, gasping and clutching his head. His eyes were unfocused, his expression dazed as his mind struggled to integrate the false memories with the real ones.

He mumbled something unintelligible, but his eyes were glassy, already somewhere else—stumbling through forests, picking locks, running for his life. The new memories were taking root.

I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him toward the portal. He stumbled through, disappearing into the forest beyond. The portal remained open, allowing us to watch as he looked around in confusion, then began limping in the direction of the palace.

“Shadow warriors?” Arabella asked.

I nodded, summoning two of my shadowy servants and speaking to them in the harsh language of my youth. “Follow him. Make sure he reaches Auremar.”

The shadow warriors bowed and slipped through the portal, their forms immediately blending with the darkness of the forest. I closed the portal with a flick of my wrist, the darkness collapsing in on itself until it vanished completely.

Arabella and I stood in silence for a moment.

“How do you feel?” I asked, studying her face.

She considered the question, her expression thoughtful. “Relieved, I think.”

“Not upset about the memory alteration?”

She shook her head. “He allowed mages to alter my memories for years. There’s a certain justice in it.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. My little villain indeed.

“Besides,” she continued, “it serves a greater purpose than mere revenge. Though I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy watching you rough him up a bit.”

I leaned in, offering her my arm. “I was holding back.”

She took my arm, her fingers warm against my skin. “I noticed. I was expecting something more creative from the Dark Lord.”

“Believe me, I had ideas.” We left the cell, making our way back up the staircase. “But this plan serves our needs better than indulging my more elaborate fantasies.”

“Such as?”

I glanced at her, noting the genuine curiosity in her eyes. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

I considered for a moment, then decided honesty was the best approach. “I thought about turning him into one of my shadow warriors—binding his soul to my service for eternity. Or perhaps feeding him to Nyx, piece by piece, keeping him alive to feel every bite.”

Arabella’s expression remained neutral, but I felt her grip tighten slightly on my arm. Not in fear or disgust, I realized, but in consideration.

“Those do have a certain appeal,” she admitted as we reached the top of the stairs. “But I think I prefer this. Using him as a tool, then discarding him. It’s fitting. Do you think it will work? The false intelligence?”

“Auremar is desperate and paranoid. He’ll believe Evenfall because he wants to believe he’s caught us planning something to take his ten thousand soldiers away from the northern outpost.” I opened the door to our chambers, ushering her inside. “And even if he suspects a trap, he can’t afford to ignore the information. He won’t recall his entire army, but he’ll have to commit his remaining forces to defend Sunspire, where he thinks I’ll be staging some sort of villainous trick.”