Page 243 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Movement caught my eye—a figure emerging from behind an overturned fountain. I had a shadow blade forming before I recognized the ridiculous amount of flowers sprouting from cracks in the paving stones.

“Sebastian?” I let the blade dissolve. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He straightened, brushing marble dust from his formerly pristine jacket. Now it was torn at the shoulder, splattered with blood. But he didn’t look injured that I could see. “I could ask you the same question, Lord Blackrose. Aren’t you supposed to be commanding an army?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the Sky Serpent heading back to Skyspire?”

He stepped carefully around a particularly aggressive patch of thorny vines that had erupted near the fountain. “When you recalled the ship, I… disembarked.”

“You jumped off a flying ship.”

“I created a rather impressive cushion of moss.” He gestured vaguely at the palace. “I couldn’t leave without checking on something.”

I didn’t have time for whatever sentimental mission had drawn him back here. But I needed to find Amaryska, and Sebastian knew this palace better than I did.

“I’m looking for someone,” I said. “A sorceress. Gray robes with red stitching, dark hair, about this tall.” I held my hand at shoulder height. “Probably wherever Auremar kept his mages.”

Sebastian’s expression shifted, flowers wilting slightly around his feet. “Why would you—”

“It’s important.” I started toward the palace entrance. “Can you show me where the royal mages work or not?”

He fell into step beside me, careful not to slip on the blood-slicked stones. “I know where the arcanum is. Arabella and I used to sneak in there when we were children.”

“Lead the way,” I said.

The palace interior was chaos. Servants ran past carrying everything from silver candlesticks to rolled tapestries, looting what they could before order returned. Most fled at the sight of me—the Dark Lord himself, walking their halls like he owned them. Which, technically, I might. Did killing a king automatically transfer property ownership? I’d have to ask Vex about the legal precedents.

Nah. My army was at the doorstep. I’d say that was an automatic transfer of power via conquering.

Sebastian navigated the corridors with easy familiarity, occasionally pointing out hidden passages or shortcuts. “Arabella knew all the secret ways,” he said as we climbed a servants’ stair. “She had this game where she’d hide and see how long it took the guards to find her. Once she stayed hidden for three days. They thought she’d been kidnapped.”

We’d entered a long hall covered with paintings on the wall—all portraits, hundreds of them. “Sounds like her.”

“The king and her father were furious. That was a year before—” Sebastian stopped abruptly, staring at one of the portraits near the end. A young woman with golden hair and kind eyes, holding a book of pressed flowers. “That’s her mother, Lady Iona Evenfall.”

I’d never seen a portrait of Arabella’s mother. The resemblance was striking, though Arabella had a sharpness her mother lacked.

“She was kind to me,” Sebastian said quietly. “When my grandmother died, she’d invite me to tea and let me talk about her. She never told me to stop crying or ‘be strong’ like everyone else did. My own mother was ill by that time, so—”

“Amaryska killed her.” The words came out flat, matter-of-fact. Easier to say it like that—like a tactical briefing—than to think about what it meant. That I was about to ask my mother for help. That I needed her. “The woman I’m looking for. She’s the one who murdered Arabella’s mother.”

Sebastian turned to stare at me. “And you’re seeking her out? Why?”

Because she might know how to free the Shadow King. Because I’d promised to save Arabella, even if it meant dooming everyone else. Because I was a selfish bastard who’d choose his wife over the world every single time.

“It’s important,” I repeated.

He studied my face, and I saw the moment he understood something was terribly wrong. Not the specifics—he couldn’t know about the Shadow King possessing Arabella—but he recognized the desperation I was trying to hide.

“This way,” he said simply, and continued down the corridor.

The Royal Arcanum occupied an entire wing of the palace, though most of it appeared abandoned. Doors hung open on empty workshops and libraries, their contents either looted or carried away by their fleeing owners. Only one section showed signs of recent use—a suite of rooms at the far end, where the smell of bitter herbs and old blood grew stronger.

“Wait here,” I told Sebastian.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No.” I put enough command in my voice to make lesser men soil themselves. Sebastian was not a lesser man, much as I’d wanted him to be. “This is between me and her.”