Page 30 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“I’ll try to avoid having magical artifacts burn my skull in the future,” I said against his blood-soaked clothes.

He pulled me back and stared at me for a long moment, then helped me stand. The searing agony that had consumed me moments ago had vanished completely, replaced by a strange, humming vitality that coursed through my veins. Not even the faintest echo of pain remained—only a peculiar sense of expansion, as if my skin could barely contain whatever new power now resided within me.

“What the hell just happened?” I traced my forehead where the Heirloom had been. Instead of metal, I felt only warm skin with a faint, pleasant tingle, as if someone had drawn the circlet’s shape with warm honey.

Kazimir gaped at me, his earlier panic shifting to bewilderment. “The Heirloom. It melted into you. There’s a mark—” He traced the air above my forehead, not quite touching. “Like a golden tattoo, but barely visible.”

“But why would it do that?” I asked, still feeling my forehead. “Why would an ancient artifact designed to control ley lines suddenly decide to melt into me?”

Kazimir shook his head, genuine confusion darkening his features. “I have no idea. Nothing in the texts mentioned anything like this.”

A chill ran through me as I remembered the vision of darkness coiling inside him, the Shadow King’s presence that he seemed completely unaware of. Could that be why? Was the Heirloom somehow responding to the darkness within him by seeking refuge in me instead? The thought formed a knot in my throat, but I swallowed it down. Now wasn’t the time to voice such concerns—not when I barely understood what had happened.

My mouth quirked up despite the sick twist in my stomach. “For someone who just had their life’s ambition literally absorbed into his wife’s head, you’re taking this remarkably well.”

He gestured vaguely at the destroyed room. “I’ve already had my tantrum for the day. There’s nothing left here to destroy.”

“I can still feel it.” I looked up as if I could see my own forehead. “It’s merged with me somehow. I can sense the ley lines, but they’re fainter now.”

Kazimir’s fingers hovered just above my skin, and I felt the familiar electric tingle of his magic brushing against mine. “Can you control it? Sever the connection?”

I concentrated, trying to push the Heirloom away. Nothing happened. Then I tried a different approach—not pushing it away, but closing a door in my mind.

To my surprise, it worked. The awareness of the magical currents faded to a background hum. “I can block it out. Not remove it, but I can choose not to listen.”

His shoulders relaxed fractionally. “Good. Very good.” He ran a hand down his face. “We need to research this. If the Heirloom is connected to those corrupted ley lines, and now it’s connected to you…”

The implication was clear—the corruption could flow into me.

“We’ll figure it out,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

He took my arms and turned me around as if he could figure out a solution just by staring at my head. “I suppose we don’t have much choice. It’s not as if we can pry it out of your skull.”

“That’s the spirit,” I said drily.

When I faced him again, genuine worry flickered behind his eyes. “Are you certain you’re all right? That thing is powerful, and now it’s woven into you.”

I grinned. “On the bright side, we’ll never misplace it.”

Kazimir shot me a wry look. The tension slowly dissipated, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion. The battle, the chaotic portal jump, the emotional eruption, and now this—it had all taken its toll.

“You know,” he said slowly, voice taking on that sardonic edge I recognized as his coping mechanism, “I nearly got myself killed for that artifact on multiple occasions. And now it’s decided to take up permanent residence in your head. The universe must have it out for me.”

“Maybe it’s doing you a favor.” I gestured to the destruction around us. Water from melting frost was running along cracks in the floor. “Since you’ve redecorated, I suppose we’re done here?”

His lips twitched. “In my defense, discovering that your decade-long quest for power has been sabotaged by a sanctimonious flower king is rather irritating.”

As we moved back into our main chambers, I couldn’t help reflecting on what had just happened. Not the Heirloom merging with me—though that was certainly worth a minor existential crisis—but Kazimir’s reaction to the corruption of the ley lines.

His rage hadn’t surprised me. And I’d never once feared he would harm me. What hurt was how he’d seemed to dismiss what we’d found together. In his tirade about his decade-long quest, there had been no acknowledgment of us.

Of me.

If the Heirloom proved worthless, perhaps finding me hadn’t been worth it. No—that wasn’t quite right. What I really wanted, what made my chest ache, was for him to say that regardless of the Heirloom and his plans for conquest—I had been worth it. That kidnapping me, marrying me, opening himself to me had value beyond strategic advantage.

I wanted to matter more than his ambitions.

But he hadn’t said that. In his fury over Auremar’s interference, there had been no mention of what we’d built together, no acknowledgment that perhaps his decade-long quest had transformed into something more meaningful than mere dominion.