Page 257 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

It was everything.

76 Survey Your Conquest

(While Planning Your Exit Strategy)

Kazimir

I stood in the highest tower of Sunspire Palace, watching my forces secure the city gates glittering in the bright morning sun.

No resistance. No dramatic last stands. Just silent streets and frightened faces peering from behind curtains. The mighty kingdom that had defied me for years had fallen with barely a whimper. It should have felt like victory.

Instead, it felt like inheriting a house infested with termites.

“The eastern quarter is secure,” Thorne reported from behind me. “No sign of remaining nobility. Most fled when word spread of Auremar’s death.”

I turned from the view, finding my council assembled in what had been Auremar’s private study. Arabella perched on the edge of the massive oak desk, one leg swinging idly. Vex stood by the window, cataloging the palace’s assets on a scroll that magically grew longer by the minute. Griffin hunched over a map, muttering about ley line convergences.

And Sebastian sat in one of the plush chairs, looking entirely too comfortable for someone in the conquered palace of his former king. Morning glories had sprouted along the chair’s carved arms, their delicate blue petals opening toward the sunlight. I noticed with irritation that they were all morning glories now—no more random wildflowers or nervous weeds. Just those damned morning glories, everywhere he went.

I had too much to worry about to puzzle out why his stress flowers had suddenly become so consistent.

“And the western districts?” I asked, dragging my attention away from the way Sebastian’s fingers absently traced the petals.

“Also secure.” Thorne hesitated, then added, “There’s the matter of Auremar’s northern army.”

I raised an eyebrow. “The ten thousand he was marching to meet us at the northern outpost?”

“They’re still marching,” Thorne confirmed. “Last reports had them three days out from the northern border. If word of Sunspire’s fall hasn’t reached them yet—”

“It will soon,” Vex interrupted, looking up from her scroll. “Merchants talk. Refugees talk. Someone will get word to the commanders within hours if they haven’t already.”

Griffin tapped the map nervously. “Ten thousand soldiers is a significant force.”

“It was before we had direct access to Solandris’s ley lines,” I corrected, flexing my fingers and feeling them hum beneath Sunspire like living veins of power. I moved to the map, tracing the paths of power I could now sense threading through the conquered kingdom. “Auremar kept his army enhanced with corrupted magic from the Golden Rose Fields. Now those fields are dead, and I control the ley lines they were drawing from.”

“Which means?” Sebastian asked.

“Which means their mages are starving for power,” I said. “And I could crush half that army before they realized what was happening.”

Thorne’s expression shifted to something like satisfaction. “The Heirloom changes the equation.”

“Just as it was always meant to do.” I felt Arabella’s presence through our bond, felt the way the Heirloom resonated between us. “What would have been a grueling siege a month ago is now barely an inconvenience.”

Sebastian’s eyes went wide. “You could use the ley line convergence to cut off their magical support entirely. Just redirect the flows away from their position.”

“I could do that,” I agreed. “Or I could do something more dramatic. The Bone Behemoth was just a taste of what’s possible now.”

Griffin shifted uncomfortably. “Even without Auremar’s magic backing them, they could cause considerable damage if they decide to—”

“Avenge their fallen king?” I finished. “Or they could surrender the moment they realize their cause is lost.”

“Or splinter,” Sebastian offered quietly. “When the Northern Peaks fell to internal conflict decades ago, the army broke into three factions. Some went home. Some turned to banditry. Some tried to prop up a new leader.”

“The ones from Valmont and Meridian Isle are only there because of their alliance with Solandris. They might not even care—well, except for the ones with something to lose, like the merchants and nobility.”

Arabella folded her arms. “We can’t leave ten thousand armed soldiers wandering around making their own decisions.”

“No,” I agreed. “We can’t.”