Page 38 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

We returned to the table just as Vex entered. Sebastian immediately stood, nearly knocking over his chair in his haste.

Vex’s eyes narrowed slightly when she saw him. “I was moving his rooms,” she said, taking her seat with precise movements that meant she was irritated. “Lord Sebastian will be quite comfortable now.”

Sebastian’s violet eyes fixed on her with obvious interest. “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble, Lady…?”

“Vex,” she said simply. “I’m Lord Blackrose’s steward.”

“A steward of remarkable grace and skill, I’d venture to say,” Sebastian said, and then his eyes widened in horror. “To manage such a fortress each day.” He clamped his mouth shut, his face flushing.

Everyone stared.

Thorne blinked slowly. “Did you just rhyme?”

Sebastian looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him. “My most sincere apologies. It’s an unfortunate lingering effect from an incident.”

“The Bone Witch incident,” Griffin breathed, his eyes going wide. “You still rhyme?”

“Only when I’m particularly stressed or…” Sebastian glanced around the table. “It’s most inconvenient.”

“You invited Bone Witches to a winter solstice ball,” I said flatly. “And you’re surprised there were consequences?”

“I’d hoped that fostering understanding between disparate magical communities might—” Sebastian stopped, pressing his lips together as if physically preventing another rhyme from escaping.

“It could have been worse,” Vex said, picking up her knife. “I once tracked down a Bone Witch who cursed one of our suppliers.”

Sebastian swallowed. “And what happened?” He seemed to have forgotten to rhyme in his eagerness to change the subject.

Vex grinned. “She speaks only in limericks now.” She twirled the knife between her fingers. “The witch, I mean. Not the supplier.”

“See?” Arabella whispered to me. “Badass.”

The food arrived—roasted fowl with vegetables, fresh bread, wine from my private reserve. Sebastian’s eyes widened slightly at the spread, though he kept glancing at the roses with increasing agitation. “I didn’t expect such a—” He paused delicately. “That is to say, your hospitality exceeds all reasonable expectations.”

“You’ll find most villains are quite civilized,” I said, tearing into the bread. “Until we’re not.”

Throughout the first course, Sebastian kept shooting worried glances at the black roses, occasionally tilting his head as if listening. Finally, he actually shook his finger at them sternly.

“Is there a problem with the flowers?” Vex asked abruptly.

Sebastian froze. “I—that is… they’re quite—” He sighed in defeat. “They’re being terribly gossipy, if you must know.”

Griffin dropped his fork. “The roses are talking to you?”

“All plants talk,” Sebastian said defensively. “These are just particularly chatty. And rather inappropriate, if I’m being honest. The things they’re saying about—” He cut himself off, face reddening.

“What?” Arabella leaned forward, fascinated.

Sebastian looked supremely uncomfortable. “I’d rather not repeat it in polite company. Or any company. Ever.”

Griffin looked at his precious roses with betrayal. “They’re gossiping and I can’t hear them.”

“They’re only magically enhanced to sample blood,” I said slowly. “But you’re telling me they’ve developed personalities?”

“Oh, they’re quite opinionated,” Sebastian said miserably. “That one”—he pointed to a rose on the left—“keeps making highly inappropriate suggestions about what you and Lady Blackrose were doing before dinner.”

Arabella choked on her wine.

“Trust me, the roses aren’t breaking any news,” Thorne muttered into his wineglass.