Page 209 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“The irony is that even if he were to recall the army, it wouldn’t be there in time to defend him. I like the way you think, Lord Blackrose.”

I smirked. “Among other things about me.”

Our chambers were warm and inviting, the fire in the hearth casting an inviting glow. It struck me, not for the first time, how different this space had become since Arabella arrived. What had once been a utilitarian retreat was now a safe space.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice that was both mine and not mine whispered that I should tell her the truth before it was too late. That I should confess everything.

But as I pulled her into my arms, I pushed the thought away. Tomorrow would bring enough challenges without adding that particular confession to the list.

Besides, there would be time after our victory.

Time to figure out what to do about the darkness inside me.

I pulled off her clothes and made good on my promise to scandalize the servants one more time with her. My magic mingled with Arabella’s as I brought her to release, and we didn’t try to contain it as we usually did. Our mingled light and dark tangled and lit up the chamber brighter than any sun. Anyone looking toward Skyspire would see the exact moment when I shuddered inside her and she screamed my name. It would be seen as a bright star all to the way to Azroth’s Claw and the sea to the east. To the northern wastes and the southern reaches. Solandris. Valmont. Maybe even Meridian Isle far to the southwest.

All the places I had conquered and would conquer. The tower rumbled with the force of our joining, with what was to come. I sagged down beside her and pulled her close.

Time to find the right words to tell Arabella.

Sleep took me before I could complete the thought, dragging me down into dreams of ancient battles and a power that hungered for release.

61 Achieve Your Life’s Ambition

(It’s Everything You Dreamed)

Kazimir

The morning of battle arrived with a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

I stood at the edge of the northern outpost, watching the sun rise over the rolling hills of Solandris. The golden light painted everything in warm hues, a stark contrast to the cold purpose running through my veins. My shadow warriors moved among the troops, their forms flickering between solid and vapor as they carried my orders across the camp.

Five thousand soldiers—my finest, most loyal fighters—were preparing for the largest magical transportation in the history of warfare. The air hummed with tension and anticipation, the scent of steel and leather and sweat mingling with the earthy aroma of dew-damp grass.

“Quite the view,” Arabella said, appearing at my side. She wore the battle leathers I’d commissioned for her, the dark material hugging her curves in ways that would have distracted me under different circumstances. Her hair was pulled back in a severe braid, and the Heirloom—still fused to her and hidden with a glamor—called to me.

“It will be more impressive when we’re looking at it from the steps of Auremar’s palace,” I replied, allowing myself a small smile.

She returned the smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Nervous?”

“The Dark Lord doesn’t get nervous,” I said, the lie rolling easily off my tongue. The truth was more complicated. What I felt wasn’t exactly nervousness—it was something more primal. The voice in my head had grown stronger over the past days, a constant whisper urging me toward destruction. And no matter how many times I slammed down my mental walls, he kept finding cracks.

Take what’s yours. Burn it all. Make them kneel.

I pushed the thoughts away, focusing instead on Arabella’s face. There was so much I wanted to tell her—needed to tell her—but the words stuck in my throat. Last night, after we’d sent Evenfall to Auremar with false intelligence, I’d meant to confess everything. To tell her about the darkness growing inside me, about the ancient entity whose memories sometimes flooded my mind. To tell her that despite everything, despite who and what I was, I loved her.

But I’d hesitated, and the moment had passed. Now, with battle looming, it wasn’t the time for such revelations. We needed clarity, focus. The confession would have to wait.

“Where’s Griffin?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Finishing the calculations for the portal,” she said. “He says it’ll be ready when you are.”

I nodded, my gaze sweeping over the assembled troops one last time. “And you? Are you ready?”

Her hand found mine, squeezing briefly. “As I’ll ever be.”

The gesture was intimate—a moment of connection before the chaos that was to come. I wanted to pull her into my arms. Instead, I simply squeezed her hand in return.

“Let’s go, then,” I said, releasing her and turning toward the center of the camp where Griffin waited.