Page 40 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Vex blinked. For the first time since I’d known her, she seemed at a loss for words.

Sebastian winced suddenly, glancing at the roses. “I beg your pardon, but might we possibly remove the centerpiece? They’re becoming quite insistent.”

“What are they saying now?” Arabella asked, clearly entertained.

Sebastian’s face went scarlet. “They’re… offering commentary on Lord Blackrose’s shadow constructs. Apparently, they find them ‘melodramatic.’ And they’re making wagers about who at this table will—” He stopped abruptly. “I really cannot repeat it.”

I waved my hand, and shadows engulfed the vase, transporting it to another room. “Better?”

“Infinitely. My deepest gratitude.” Sebastian sagged with relief.

I scowled. The only reason I’d granted his request was because I could not have villainous secrets just handed over to the Scone Lord.

The conversation continued through dinner. Despite being surrounded by people who could kill him in a dozen creative ways, Sebastian maintained his excessive politeness, thanking the servants profusely for each course, complimenting the seasoning with unnecessary detail, and somehow making Griffin actually speak in complete sentences.

It was infuriating how comfortable he was.

“The citadel is remarkable,” Sebastian said over dessert—a tart that he immediately asked the recipe for. “I’d love to see more of it.”

“No,” I said flatly.

Griffin opened his mouth, probably to volunteer, but I cut him off with a look. “You’ll be in your laboratory. Working on the only thing that matters right now.”

Griffin deflated slightly but nodded.

“I can show Lord Sebastian the non-sensitive areas,” Vex said. “A brief tour while Griffin focuses on his research. We can’t have our guest accidentally stumbling into something unfortunate.”

The unspoken threat hung in the air: better a controlled tour than Sebastian exploring on his own. I wondered if locking him in his chambers would be considered better than the dungeon. Surely Arabella and Vex couldn’t object to that.

Arabella looked ready to volunteer to join them, and I quickly cut in, “Fine. But nowhere restricted. And always under escort.”

“Of course,” Sebastian agreed easily. “I would expect nothing less from a strategist of your caliber.”

Was he always this exhaustingly polite, or was this some elaborate form of mockery?

A guard was summoned to escort him back to his quarters, but Vex stood instead. “I’ll take him. I need to ensure the guest quarters are properly warded anyway.”

“And Vex,” I added darkly. “Remove any plants from his vicinity.”

“What kind of magic does he actually have?” I asked Arabella once they were gone.

She shrugged. “He was never particularly powerful that I knew of. Just good at small things. Growing flowers, making plants bloom out of season. Though apparently also conducting full conversations with bloodsucking roses.”

“That save at the Conclave was seamless,” Griffin added. “The precision required to create that exact temperature gradient, in that exact pattern, without any preparation…” He sighed. “It was masterful.”

Interesting. Very interesting. And deeply annoying.

Vex returned just as Thorne was pouring another round of wine.

“Did the pretty lord find his rooms acceptable?” Thorne asked with a smirk.

“He thanked me seventeen times in the span of a five-minute walk,” Vex said. “And apologized for his footsteps being too loud.”

“He makes excellent scones,” Arabella offered. “The best I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s magic involved somehow.”

“His baking is magical?” I asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. Because of course it was. Fucking heroes. I motioned for Thorne to pass me the wine and emptied the bottle into my glass. I was going to need something stronger if this conversation continued.

“Don’t underestimate good pastry,” Arabella was saying seriously. “Everything he makes tastes like happiness.”