Page 63 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

A human arm was lying on the sheets—pale and bloated, with a greenish tinge creeping along the mottled flesh. The dirty sleeve clung wetly to the skin, and the whole thing ended in a ragged, torn mess where it had been severed—or more accurately, worried off by teeth rather than cleanly cut.

The fingers were artfully arranged in an obscene gesture.

“Is that…” Arabella moved closer, her voice far too calm for the situation. “That’s Lightbringer’s sleeve.”

“Seems like it.” The bedding was ruined, but at least there wasn’t much blood. “But I distinctly remember leaving his body to rot in the swamp, not bringing it home as a trophy for your case.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Arabella groaned, rushing to the open window. “Nyx!”

A rumbling purr echoed from somewhere above us. The dragon. I stared at the severed arm. At our violated bed. Then at the open window framing a stormy sky.

“Why?” I managed to choke out.

“She’s still angry I didn’t listen when she tried to warn us about the escape.”

“How did she even get in here? The window’s too small.”

“She’s been getting into smaller and smaller spaces these days. It’s how she gets to Griffin’s familiars. But it might also be shadow-walking.” Arabella’s voice held a note of wonder. “I’ve been reading about shadow dragon development. When they reach a certain age, they can slip between shadows, existing in both the material plane and the shadow realm. Usually, it doesn’t manifest this early. Mature shadow dragons use it as a pathway.” She gestured around the room. “They step into one shadow and emerge from another, regardless of distance.”

I glanced at the dark corners of our chamber. “She could be here right now?”

“She’s not. I can feel her sulking on top of the tower.”

I glared at the arm in disgust. With a sharp gesture and a pulse of magic, I vanished the entire mess—the arm, the sheets, the bedding, even the pillows. The mattress underneath was thankfully unsoiled. “That was our best bedding.”

“You have twelve sets exactly like it.”

“Had. Now I have eleven.” I flicked my wrist, and the window slammed shut, the latch clicking into place.

Arabella shivered. “I’m freezing.”

Another gesture, and the fire roared back to life, flooding the room with warmth. I pulled her down onto the bare mattress, rolling so she was beneath me. “I can warm you just fine.”

“Mmm.” Her hands slipped under my shirt, and I flinched as her cold fingers trailed over my abdomen. “Nyx can’t come to the God Spire.”

I pulled back slightly. “Obviously not. We’d be inviting a war if she decided to pull a stunt like this on the Alchemist.”

“She won’t understand that.”

I groaned, dropping my forehead to rest against hers. “Do you want me to tell her?”

Arabella laughed. “You can’t intimidate a dragon into good behavior.”

“Watch me.”

“Kaz.”

“Fine.” I trailed kisses down her neck, feeling a surge of satisfaction when she squirmed beneath me. “What do you suggest?”

“We give her a job. Make her feel important. Maybe patrol duty while we’re gone?”

I nipped at her collarbone. “You want to leave a vindictive teenage dragon in charge of something?”

“With Vex supervising, obviously.”

It wasn’t the worst idea. Nyx was protective of Skyspire now that she considered it her territory. And Vex had a way with difficult personalities. She managed me, after all.

“I’ll consider it,” I said finally.