Page 246 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Sebastian stepped forward without hesitation. “Let’s get this over with.”

“So eager to die for love,” Amaryska mused, producing a ritual blade. “How disappointingly heroic.”

“I’m not dying for love.” Sebastian rolled up his sleeve, exposing his forearm, and I noticed he wasn’t rhyming. “I’m giving so Arabella can live. It’s a simple enough choice.”

She grabbed his wrist, positioning the blade over his vein. “Even if the fate of the world hangs in the balance?”

Sebastian’s perfect face hardened, and I recognized something in his expression. Something that only recently I’d allowed myself to experience—love. A muscle flexed in my jaw. Sebastian loved my wife, and I wasn’t sure how platonic his feelings ran. For a heartbeat—or three, maybe—I thought about telling Amaryska to drain him dry. But I kept my peace. There’d be time to assess the depths of his feelings later.

The cut was quick. Blood welled up, dropping into the silver bowl with soft metallic pings. One drop. Two. Three.

“That should be—” Sebastian started.

Amaryska’s grip tightened. The blade cut deeper.

“Mother,” I warned. I may have just contemplated Sebastian’s death, but if anyone was going to kill him eventually, it would be me.

“Just ensuring we have enough.” More blood flowed, far more than necessary. Sebastian’s face went pale. “The prison threads are quite stubborn, you know. Better to be thorough.”

“That’s enough.”

She ignored me, watching Sebastian’s blood fill the bowl with avid fascination. His knees buckled. Still she held on, blade pressing deeper while she whispered a spell. His blood poured out of the wound.

I grabbed her wrist, shadow-wrapped fingers crushing until she released him. Sebastian collapsed, clutching his arm. Blood seeped between his fingers.

“You said a few drops.”

“I said it should suffice.” She pulled free of my grip, cradling the bowl like a precious child. “But why take chances? The boy volunteered. I simply ensured his sacrifice would count.”

I knelt beside Sebastian, stripping out of my leather jerkin and tearing a strip from my shirt to bind his wound. His breathing was shallow, skin clammy. He’d lost too much blood, too fast. The wound’s edges had already turned black. Poison.

Rage flooded through me, but I shoved it down. Deal with her after. First, free the Shadow King. Then make her pay.

“Can you stand?”

He tried, legs shaking. “I’m… I’m fine. Do the ritual.”

He wasn’t fine. He was dying. But I had no healing magic to give, and Arabella—Arabella needed this to work.

I helped him to the edge of the dais, propping him against a fallen pillar. “Stay conscious. I’ll get you help after.”

“Sure.” His laugh was weak. “After you free an ancient evil. No pressure.”

Amaryska had already begun setting up the ritual circle, using the conspirators’ ash to draw symbols I recognized from the journal she’d shown me. The silver bowl sat at the center, Sebastian’s blood dark and still.

“Stand there.” She pointed to a position across from her. “When I begin the incantation, channel your dominion magic into the circle. The blood will do the rest.”

I took my position, feeling the weight of what I was about to do. Somewhere above us, my army was probably mopping up the last resistance.

“Ready?” Amaryska asked.

I nodded.

She began to chant in a language that predated human speech, each word scraping against reality, the words she had beaten into me as a child. The blood in the bowl began to bubble. I fed magic into the circle, watching the ash symbols flare with sickly light.

The chamber groaned. Dust rained from the ceiling as something fundamental shifted. The black ichor on the walls flowed faster, forming patterns that mimicked the symbols.

Yes, a voice whispered. Not in my head—in the air itself. Yes, finally, YES.