Page 216 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

We slipped through the service door and into the palace. The corridors were dimly lit and deserted. I led the way, navigating the familiar passages with ease despite the years since I’d last walked them. My newly restored memories made it easier, and if I didn’t remember a turn, Sebastian did.

The wine cellar was located deep beneath the palace, accessible via a narrow staircase that wound down from the kitchens. We encountered two more guards on our way, dispatching them as quietly as we had the first pair.

The cellar door was locked. I placed my palm against it, feeling for the mechanism with tendrils of shadow magic. A moment later, the lock clicked open.

“Useful trick,” Thorne murmured.

I shrugged. “Kazimir taught me. Apparently, Dark Lords have strong opinions about locks being suggestions rather than obstacles.”

We descended into shadows thick with dust and the musty sweetness of centuries-old vintages. As we entered the main cellar, magical sconces along the wall flared to life with bright flames, sputtered, and then almost died. When they stabilized, they were dimmer than I’d hoped, creating deep pockets of shadow throughout the large space. Even the magic of Sunspire was struggling in the wake of the ley lines’ corruption.

Row upon row of bottles stretched into darkness. Ancient oak barrels lined the walls, some large enough to hide a body—or several. I ran my fingers along the cold stone walls, searching for hidden catches while Thorne tested each barrel with soft taps. Sebastian moved between the towering wine racks, his violet eyes scanning for anything of interest, occasionally pressing his palm against a rack as if feeling for a hidden lever.

No sign of the prisoners.

We searched methodically, moving deeper into the vast cellar. The air was cool and damp, heavy with the scent of aged wine and earth. But as we reached the far end of the chamber, it became clear that there were no captives.

“They’re not here,” Sebastian said, stating the obvious.

“I can see that,” I snapped. “The question is, where are they?”

A noise at the entrance made us all freeze. At the sound of several pairs of boots clunking down the stairs, I slipped into a dark alcove and pulled shadows around myself like a cloak. Thorne and Sebastian were silent as they hid, as well.

Four guards entered at the far end of the cellar, carrying torches that brightened up the area better than the sconces.

“I swear I heard something,” one of them said, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Probably just rats,” another replied. “This place is infested with them.”

“And I suppose rats turned the lights on themselves, did they?” a third guard snarled. “Get busy and make sure we don’t have a prisoner hiding down here. His Majesty would have our heads if anything interfered with tonight’s ceremony.”

They spread out, moving between the wine racks with weapons drawn. One of them was heading straight for Sebastian’s hiding place.

I caught his eye across the cellar and nodded slightly. He understood, his fingers moving in a subtle gesture. Vines erupted from between the stones of the floor, wrapping around the guards’ ankles and rapidly climbing up their bodies. Within seconds, all four were bound tightly, unable to move or cry out as the plants covered their mouths.

I stepped out from among the shadows that trailed after me. The guards’ eyes widened in recognition and fear.

“Hello, boys,” I said, my voice deceptively light. “I seem to have misplaced some prisoners. Perhaps you could help me find them?”

One of the guards made a muffled sound behind his gag of leaves. I approached him.

“I’m going to remove this,” I said, gesturing to the plant covering his mouth, “and you’re going to tell me where Auremar is keeping the people with heroic bloodlines. If you lie to me…” I let the shadows around my hand darken and twist. “Well, let’s just say I’ve learned some interesting techniques from my husband.”

Sebastian loosened the vine enough for the guard to speak. The man gasped for air, his eyes darting frantically between us.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered. “What prisoners?”

I sighed dramatically. “They never listen the first time.” It was practically cliche at this point.

I placed my palm against his chest and inverted my healing magic, sending a pulse of energy that attacked rather than mended. The guard screamed as blood vessels burst beneath his skin, creating a spiderweb of red that spread across his torso. I didn’t have to see it to feel the damage beneath his armor.

“Let’s try again,” I said, leaning in close. “Where are the prisoners?”

“They were moved!” he gasped, tears streaming down his face.

“Where?”

“To the ritual chamber beneath the Golden Rose Fields. Last night. That’s all I know, I swear!”