Page 51 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“You,” he spat. “Corrupted bitch. You should be—”

Kazimir’s shadows surged forward, but I held up a hand. “Mine.”

Lightbringer laughed. “You think you can take me, little girl? I’m a knight-commander of the—”

“You know,” I said conversationally, stalking toward him, “I didn’t get a proper chance to fight you before.”

He lunged at me with his bare hands. I sidestepped easily, letting him stumble past. He spun, swinging wildly. I ducked under his arm and drove my knee into his stomach. He doubled over, wheezing.

“The great Sir Darian Lightbringer,” I mused, conjuring a shadow spear. “Terror of dark mages everywhere. Reduced to attacking old men in swamps. Pity you’re not even fit to fight me now.”

“Whore—” he gasped.

I heaved the spear through his shoulder. He screamed, stumbling back against a slime-covered cypress, his hand flying to where the bolt of shadow jutted from his flesh.

Before he could recover, more shadows surged from the ground at my command—thick, coiling serpents of solid darkness. They hissed silently as they wrapped around his limbs, constricting with crushing force. With a flick of my wrist, they lifted him, kicking and sputtering, until he dangled a foot above the swampy ground, utterly helpless.

My boots made soft sucking sounds in the mud as I approached him. The fear scenting the air was thick and intoxicating. I could see it in the whites of his eyes, could feel his panic as a frantic, hammering drumbeat against my own senses. I had been right—this wasn’t a fight at all.

But that didn’t stop me from savoring every second of this. This was control. This was power. This was everything I’d never had in that tower.

No more helpless girl. No more locked doors. No more waiting for someone else to decide my fate.

“You look unwell, Commander.” Sheer terror contorted his features. I glanced over at my father, who was trying to melt into the bark of a nearby tree. This performance was for him, too. A clear, final lesson on who was in charge now.

“Is it the withdrawal?” I continued, circling Lightbringer. “Does it hurt? That gnawing emptiness where Auremar’s little gift used to be?”

“Go to hell, witch,” he spat, though it lacked conviction.

“Your insults aren’t very clever.” I stopped in front of him and created a new toy—a delicate, razor-sharp stiletto. “Auremar promised you strength. He promised you power. But the truth is, he just made you a better slave.”

Lightbringer mustered another glare, and the lie he still clung to—that his mission was righteous—pricked behind my eyes.

“You’re going to die here,” I told him, tracing his jaw with the stiletto, not quite touching his skin. “I can make it a clean cut. Or”—I let the blade dip, and a single drop of his blood welled up where it touched—“it can be very, very slow. I am the Mistress of the Healing Arts, you know. I know precisely how much a body can endure before it breaks. I could keep you alive for days.”

His eyes widened, the last vestiges of his knightly bravado shattering. This was the terror I wanted to see. The kind Kazimir inspired. The kind that meant no one would ever lock me away again.

“Tell me who the spy in Skyspire is,” I ordered. “Who told the Hero’s Guild about the emergency ascension platforms?”

A low, guttural noise caught in his throat. “No,” he panted. “I don’t know.”

I waited for the telltale cold prickle of my truth-sense. Instead, I felt nothing. Sir Darian genuinely didn’t know who our spy was. Not anymore, at least.

Well, that was disappointing.

I studied his glazed eyes more carefully, noting the way they struggled to focus, how his pupils contracted and dilated erratically. The magical substance Auremar had been feeding his knights wasn’t just creating dependency. The withdrawal had carved holes in his mind, selective amnesia that conveniently protected Auremar’s secrets even as it destroyed his pawns.

“Worthless,” I sighed, letting the stiletto dissolve. This was a waste of time.

“You’re a monster,” Lightbringer rasped. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“Took you long enough to figure it out.” I smiled coldly. “Goodbye, Sir Darian.”

I didn’t bother with another weapon. I simply closed my fist, and the shadow serpents constricted, crushing the air—and life—from him in one final, brutal snap of breaking bone.

Killing Lightbringer was easy. He’d invaded my home and killed my friend. He’d nearly gotten Kaz killed.

“I warned you,” I said quietly as he collapsed. “I told you what would happen if you came for us again.”