Page 57 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“Flattery will get you extra jam,” Vex said drily, “but it won’t change my responsibilities.”

Sebastian laughed. “Worth a try. Though Griffin’s been quite vocal about your competence.”

“When he’s not terrified of her,” I added teasingly, but Griffin was staring thoughtfully into space and didn’t hear me.

“A healthy fear of Vex is a sign of intelligence.” Sebastian passed her a plate with a scone. “Anyone who isn’t at least a little intimidated by someone who can manage Kazimir Blackrose’s citadel is either brave or foolish.”

Vex took a bite of the scone and made an appreciative sound. “Your magic—it’s not just life force manipulation, is it? There’s something else in this.”

Sebastian’s hands stilled for a moment. “You can taste it?”

“I can sense it,” Vex corrected. “The enhancement. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

“Biomantic cultivation,” Sebastian said. “I sense life and purpose in organic things. The yeast in this dough is alive—I can coax it to rise perfectly. Those herbs drying? Their cells are dying, but they still have intent, a reason for being. I can keep them potent, prevent spoilage. The preserved meats are further gone—I can tell if they’re safe, but I can’t change them. It’s like… living things sing to me. Dying things with purpose hum. True death is just silence.”

She brushed a crumb off her face. “That must be overwhelming.”

The Doom Scroll suddenly flared with red text, drawing Griffin’s attention. “Oh, that’s not good.”

“What?” I moved closer, trying to read the moving script.

“Magical disturbances near Solandris. A merchant’s entire cargo of silk spontaneously transformed into angry butterflies. That’s… actually kind of amusing. But this—” He pointed to another line. “Three mages in Sunspire fell into comas while attempting a simple scrying. And here, a ley line intersection near the border just collapsed.”

My blood ran cold. These weren’t random events.

“That’s unusual,” Sebastian said, frowning. “What would cause something like that?”

“Griffin, you should inform Lord Blackrose immediately,” I said, perhaps too quickly. Sebastian didn’t know about the corruption of the ley lines.

Griffin started to protest—clearly wanting to stay for the scones—but Sebastian was already wrapping one in a clean cloth. “Blueberry,” he said, pressing it into Griffin’s hands. “Still warm.”

“My hero.” Griffin looked like he might cry.

Sebastian chuckled good-naturedly. “Good luck with your research.”

Griffin practically floated out of the kitchen.

Vex stood. “I better make sure he actually delivers that message—it’s too important for him to get distracted.” She paused to look back. “Sebastian, save me one of the lemon ones?”

“Already set aside,” he assured her.

As their footsteps faded, the background noise of cooks and clattering pans seemed to recede, leaving Sebastian and me in an odd bubble of quiet.

The Heirloom pulsed warm against my forehead, hidden beneath the glamor. If the ley lines were deteriorating this quickly, we didn’t have time for the Alchemist’s games. But refusing to go to the God Spire wasn’t an option. The warning about my father had saved his worthless life, and now I owed a debt I couldn’t refuse to pay.

It would have been simpler if I’d just let Auremar’s assassins have him and ignored the Alchemist’s warning.

But then I’d never have learned the truth about my mother.

“Arabella?” Sebastian’s voice pulled me back.

“Just thinking about the trip,” I said, finishing my scone. “The timing is unfortunate.”

“Most things involving the Syndicate are.” He began covering the remaining scones. “Though I’m curious to see the God Spire. I’ve only heard stories.”

“What about your father?” I asked. “Aren’t you worried Auremar will retaliate against him for your sudden departure?”

Sebastian shook his head. “He’s in no danger from Auremar.”