Page 61 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“That remains to be seen.”

As Vex left, Arabella hopped off the table, her boots hitting the floor with a decisive thud. “You know what this is?”

“A clusterfuck?”

“A honeymoon.” Her smile was wicked as she moved closer. “You never did take me on one.”

“Most honeymoons don’t involve potentially hostile magical entities and binding debts… or so many people.”

“Most honeymoons are boring.” She traced a finger along my chest, right over where my runes were carved. “Unless you’re saying you can’t handle a little excitement?”

Sebastian made a strangled noise. “My lord?”

“You’re still here,” I said without looking at him. “Why?”

He practically ran from the room, his escort hurrying to catch up.

I stared at Arabella for a long moment, feeling something shift in my chest as her words sank in. Not just lust—though there was plenty of that—but deep admiration.

“A honeymoon,” I repeated slowly, the idea taking shape in my mind. “Arabella, that’s brilliant.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“No, listen.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice even though we were alone. “If we present this as a honeymoon trip, we control the narrative. We’re not responding to a summons—we’re simply taking our overdue wedding tour. A short getaway after a decisive victory in northern Solandris.”

She smiled. I began pacing. “In the Syndicate, debt is leverage. If it becomes common knowledge that I’m beholden to the Alchemist—”

“The other chairs would use it against you,” she finished. “They’d start speculating what information was valuable enough for the mighty Chair of Dominion to go into debt.”

My shadows curled with pleasure at how quickly she grasped the implications. “But a honeymoon—”

“Gives us the perfect misdirection.” Her smile turned predatory. “And when they ask about that massive surge of power from Skyspire during the Guild attack—”

“We blame it on our explosive marital bliss.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Heroic bloodline, dominion magic… things get intense when we’re together. I’ll send word ahead to prepare for my bride. No one else needs to know about the Alchemist. We meet them under a social pretext, conduct our business privately, and get back to the Western Realms before Auremar realizes we’re gone.”

Arabella’s eyes gleamed. “Plus, no one questions newlyweds wanting privacy. We’ll have freedom to move about the Spire unencumbered.”

I reached for her then, unable to resist. My hand slid from her waist to cup the curve of her ass through her gown. I pulled her flush against me, letting her feel the effect her words had. “Do you have any idea how attractive you are right now?”

“Because of my face or my devious mind?” She tilted her head, challenge in her voice.

“Both.” My voice dropped lower as I trailed my fingers up her spine.

“Just try to remember it’s a cover story, my lord,” she whispered, her fingers tangling in my hair. “We have an alchemist to see and not a lot of time before we need to be back here, dealing with a mad king.”

Thorne cleared his throat. Loudly.

“You heard the lady, Thorne,” I said, still holding Arabella’s gaze. “We’re going on our honeymoon. Prepare accordingly.”

Thorne escaped while we were distracted, probably to warn the others that we were in one of our moods. The ones where we couldn’t seem to stop orbiting each other, trading barbs that were really just foreplay.

“We should finish packing,” Arabella said finally, though she didn’t move away. “This is stupid, isn’t it? Walking into the Syndicate’s stronghold with the Heirloom literally fused to my head?”

I pulled back enough to meet her eyes. “Probably.”

She studied me with those hazel eyes that saw too much. “You want to know what the Alchemist knows. About the Heirloom. About us. About what’s coming.”

She wasn’t wrong. The Syndicate had been suspiciously quiet since their last visit. No threats, no demands, just waiting. It made my skin crawl. And if the Alchemist could give us a heads-up, it would make the trip worth it.