Page 256 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“You haven’t tried the scones,” Vex observed, her sharp eyes tracking Kazimir’s careful avoidance of a particular tray.

“I’ve had scones before,” he said dismissively.

“Not Sebastian’s scones.” Griffin had unwound a second cinnamon roll and was whirling it around. “They’re legendary. Sebastian, didn’t you tell me about an incident where a minor lord challenged someone to a duel over the last scone at a banquet?”

Sebastian looked up from his dough, alarmed. “That’s not—I mean, they’re just scones.”

“Just scones,” Vex repeated flatly. “My lady, tell your husband he’s being ridiculous.”

I watched Kazimir’s jaw tighten, recognizing the stubborn set of his shoulders. He was avoiding them on principle. Because Sebastian made them. Because they were probably annoyingly perfect.

“They are really good,” I offered, taking another bite of my croissant to hide my smile.

Kazimir’s eyes narrowed at me. Traitor, that look said.

“The Dark Lord of Skyspire,” Thorne rumbled from his position by the storage containers, “afraid of baked goods.”

That did it. Kazimir’s pride wouldn’t allow that particular jab to stand. He stalked to the tray, selected a scone with all the gravity of choosing a weapon, and bit into it.

His expression went carefully, dangerously blank.

We all watched in silence as he chewed. Swallowed. Stared at the remaining scone in his hand like it had personally betrayed him.

“Well?” Vex prompted.

“It’s adequate,” Kazimir said, his voice tight.

Sebastian beamed. “Oh, thank you! I wasn’t sure about the butter ratio this time—”

My truth-sense practically vibrated. “That’s the biggest lie you’ve told all week.”

Kazimir shot me a look that promised retribution later. Then, with visible reluctance, he took another bite. And another. The scone disappeared in record time.

I heard him mutter something under his breath as he reached for a second one, trying to make it look casual.

“What was that?” I asked sweetly.

“Nothing.”

But I’d heard it. Caught the words even as he’d tried to swallow them along with his wounded pride.

Fucking heroes.

He took an aggressive bite of the second scone, his expression suggesting he was imagining it was something far less delicious and far more deserving of his teeth. Like maybe a political enemy.

Sebastian, oblivious to—or perhaps because of—the internal crisis he’d caused, simply smiled and went back to his dough.

“What’s the plan for hunting him down?” Vex asked quietly. “The Shadow King.”

“We don’t have one yet.” I took another sip of wine.

I caught Kazimir’s eye, and he smiled—a real smile, not his usual smirk or villainous grin. Just pure, uncomplicated happiness despite just being forced to eat the best scone in his life.

Then Griffin accidentally set his sleeve on fire with whatever was in that blue liqueur, and the moment dissolved into chaos and laughter and Sebastian’s exasperated attempts to extinguish flaming clothing.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges. But tonight, we were just a family, slightly singed and covered in flour, celebrating the simple fact that we were all still alive.

It was enough. More than enough.