Page 6 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

A strange, soft smile crossed Sebastian’s face. “We’ve met, actually.”

I blinked in surprise. “You have?”

Griffin looked like he might spontaneously combust. “At the Conclave of Arcane Tinkerers. Three years ago. Though I never imagined you would remember.”

Sebastian gave a polite nod. “To the contrary. Your demonstration of weather manipulation was quite memorable.”

“I thought you’d only heard about his scones,” I said, eyeing my enchanter suspiciously.

Griffin turned a shade of red I’d previously only seen on battlefield wounds. “I… that is… I should really go look for that glowing moss you mentioned, my lord. Vital research. Extremely time-sensitive.”

Before anyone could stop him, Griffin bolted into the forest.

I sighed. “Thorne, go after him before he gets lost or eaten by something.”

Thorne’s long-suffering nod conveyed his deep and abiding resignation to his fate. He followed Griffin into the trees. I made a mental note to give Thorne a raise. Or at least stop hitting him with eyeballs when he didn’t show up to meetings.

Arabella studied Sebastian’s pale complexion with concern. “Perhaps we should rest and have something to eat.”

I signaled the attendants, who hurried to set up a field tent. Sebastian watched with the dazed expression of someone who couldn’t quite believe where he’d ended up.

A shriek announced Nyx’s return. The dragon soared overhead, looking insufferably pleased with herself. Fresh gore dripped from her scales and teeth, and something metallic dangled from one claw. She landed with a flourish of wings that nearly toppled the half-erected tent. Attendants scattered, cursing as they fought to hold the canvas.

The dragon pranced toward us and dropped a piece of Solandrian armor at Arabella’s feet like a cat presenting a dead mouse. Nyx then turned her attention to the bloody mass between her teeth. With a sickening crack, she bit down. The object snapped in two—a human femur, I noted with clinical detachment.

Nyx dropped the pieces and began gnawing one end. The sound of crunching bone echoed in the sudden silence.

Arabella winced.

Sebastian stared, color draining from his already pale face. “That’s—a dragon?”

“A shadow dragon.” Arabella’s voice was overly bright. “She’s still young.”

“Why is she pink?”

“We’re still figuring that out, actually.”

Sebastian couldn’t look away from the carnage. “Excellent source of calcium for the soil, I suppose. Just… a terrible way to procure it.”

I found myself oddly delighted by Nyx’s timing and decided to forgive her. Nothing said “welcome to the villain’s camp” like a dragon devouring human remains.

The tent was finally secured, and servants arranged a simple meal inside. Before entering, I stepped directly into Sebastian’s path. The shadows at my feet darkened, and I let just enough power leak through to make the air crackle.

“You’re not here to save my wife, are you?”

His violet eyes met mine without flinching, then shifted to Arabella. “Does she need saving?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t.”

Sebastian studied her face, then nodded. “Then I’m not here to save anyone but myself, Dark Lord.”

I held his gaze a moment longer, searching for deceit. Finding none, I stepped aside and let him pass.

Inside, we settled around a low table set with bread, cheese, and wine. Sebastian fell upon it like a starving man. Arabella sat beside me, her knee occasionally brushing mine under the table. Outside, Nyx’s continued bone-crunching provided a macabre backdrop to our conversation. Every so often, she would let out a contented growl and fly off, presumably to retrieve another course from the buffet she’d left strewn across the landscape. Each time she cracked another skull, Sebastian flinched hard enough to rattle the dishes.

“So,” I said as a servant poured wine for Arabella, “why were Auremar’s soldiers chasing Solandris’s most famous baker?”

Sebastian set down his bread. “The king declared me ‘royal property’ due to my bloodline.”