Page 4 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Thorne issued a quick salute and led several riders ahead. Nyx screeched as she dove after them.

“Nyx, come back!” Arabella yelled, but the dragon only flicked her tail at us and kept going.

I watched them vanish around a bend. “That dragon has about as much respect for authority as you do. Maybe she’ll learn to follow orders before she has to carry you into battle.”

Arabella arched a brow. “Having second thoughts, my lord? I hear Sebastian is wonderfully obedient.” She nudged her mare closer, sliding a gloved hand up my thigh. “But where’s the fun in a partner who never argues back?”

I placed my hand over hers. “So,” I asked, voice low. “How do you know Lord Sebastian of the Northern Peaks?”

2 Collect Strays and Fugitives

(Your Wife Has a Soft Spot)

Kazimir

Sebastian was the only noble who was ever truly kind to me.” Arabella’s gaze tracked the bend where Thorne and his men had vanished.

My jaw tightened. “Kind.”

“Yes, Kaz. Kind. It’s this strange concept where someone treats you well without expecting anything in return.” She threw me a sidelong glance. “You might try it sometime.”

“I’m the Dark Lord. I don’t offer kindness. I offer a fortress of fear and shadow so impenetrable that you can afford to be kind within its walls.” I let my voice drop to a rumble. “You’re welcome.”

She let out a laugh that made several soldiers glance our way before hurrying to look busy. “Sebastian and I grew up together, in a sense. His father brought him to court every summer, and we’d escape the tedium of state dinners to explore the palace gardens.”

Nyx’s triumphant roar echoed from somewhere ahead, followed by a cluster of very human screams. “Ah. At last, the terror I’d been missing.”

Pity I wasn’t there to savor it firsthand, but my intervention wasn’t necessary. I refused to leave Arabella until we were certain this wasn’t some elaborate trap. Paranoid villains kept their wives alive.

“So you were childhood friends,” I pressed, unwilling to let the subject go.

“We were. Though as we grew older, we saw less of each other. His father sent him to the Academy when he was fourteen.” She shrugged. “After that, it was mostly formal events. The last time I saw him was three years ago at a midsummer ball. One dance, some polite conversation, nothing more.”

I measured her words. “Just pleasantries?”

Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re asking whether he tried to court me, the answer is no. Sebastian was always proper to a fault.” Mischief sparked in her expression. “Unlike some people who kidnap women from their carriages.”

“A remarkably efficient courtship method.”

“A tactical disaster that somehow worked out in your favor.”

I laughed and dismounted. “The best villainous schemes always are.”

I extended my hand—a gesture that was hers to refuse. She never did. Arabella placed her hand in mine and descended with deliberate slowness, pressing against me until I could feel her heat through leather and linen. I caught her waist, holding her suspended against my body. I was acutely aware that we had an audience but absolutely refused to care.

I brushed my thumb against her hip. “We’ll never get to that outpost if you keep looking at me like that.”

Her answering smile quelled the jealous beast stirring in my gut. Whatever history she shared with Sebastian, her future was forged with me. “Try to behave, my lord.” Her lips brushed my ear. “It’d be a shame to incinerate him before the introductions.”

I snorted and set her down as Thorne’s party returned.

Thorne rode at the front, his scarred face grim. Behind him rode a man I recognized from description alone, though the reality was more… aesthetically irritating than I’d anticipated.

Lord Sebastian of the Northern Peaks rode a lathered white stallion, his fine riding clothes splattered with mud. Even disheveled, he was annoyingly handsome—tall and broad-shouldered, with golden blond hair that fell to his shoulders, partially tied back. His features were classically aristocratic—high cheekbones, strong jaw, and eyes of such startling violet that I immediately suspected magical enhancement.

I already hated him on principle.

Despite his finery, Sebastian looked ready to collapse. His face was ashen, and he swayed in the saddle like a drunk at closing time.