Page 64 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

“Good.” Arabella’s hands pulled at the hem of my shirt. “Now, where were we?”

“I was about to prove that quick can be very, very good.”

Her breathing hitched as my mouth moved lower, tasting the skin just above the neckline of her dress. “Kaz, what if the Alchemist wants something we can’t give?”

“Then we get creative,” I said, my voice muffled against her skin. “We lie, we cheat, we burn the whole Spire down if we have to.”

“Oh. Well in that case—” Her thought was cut off by a sharp gasp as my hand slid up her thigh and found the right spot.

20 Make a Dramatic Exit

(Featuring Purple Flames and Public Panic)

Arabella

At first light, we stepped out of the portal nexus into an open courtyard on top of a hill. Salt air and smoke filled my lungs, and I saw the white stone buildings and gray tiled roofs of Azroth’s Claw. The city where Kaz had beheaded his father at that infamous dinner table.

As I took it in, Kazimir’s mouth curved in that particular smile he reserved for things he’d conquered. “You should see it at night. The harbor lights look like fallen stars.”

The city was everything Solandris wasn’t—raw, violent, beautiful. Where my homeland suffocated under golden perfection, this place breathed chaos. Ships of all sizes bobbed in the water, their flags bright splashes of color against the cream sails and deep blue sea. The entire city clung to the cliffs overlooking the harbor.

Controlling this port gave Kaz enormous leverage over the Western Realms. Nothing moved between the Shattered Sea and the inland kingdoms without his say-so, including Syndicate trade, unless it was willing to go far to the south of the continent.

“It’s different than I imagined,” I said softly.

Kazimir came to stand beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. “What did you imagine? Blood in the streets? Public executions?”

“No. Just… less alive.” I gestured toward the bustling marketplace visible in the distance. “It looks thriving.”

“It is. I make sure of it.” There was a note of pride in his voice. “The port trade has tripled since I took control.”

“From your father.”

His expression darkened momentarily. “Yes.”

I wanted to ask what it felt like to return to the place where he’d become the Scourge of Azroth. But this wasn’t the time, not with an audience.

“Can we stop? Just for an hour?” I knew we couldn’t, but I wanted to walk those twisting streets, taste the foreign spices I could smell even from here, maybe burn down a corrupt merchant’s stall or two.

“Soon.” Kaz’s gloved hand found mine. “When this business with the Alchemist is done, I’ll show you every shadow and secret. The night markets where they sell poisons alongside pastries. The cliff gardens where my father’s witches grew their most dangerous plants.”

I squeezed his hand. “I’d love that.”

Griffin hovered nearby. “Did you know that most portal networks have a 0.03 percent chance of depositing you in the wrong century? I once ended up—”

“Griffin,” Kazimir’s voice cut through the enchanter’s rambling. “Not now.”

Behind us, Sebastian made a sound like a dying cat. “The boat, the boat, we’ll miss the boat! My stomach wishes to revolt!”

“You’re getting worse!” Griffin pushed his spectacles high onto his nose. “That’s interesting. Yesterday you managed most conversations normally. What’s wrong?”

Thorne’s laugh sounded like gravel in a meat grinder. “Stress.”

“This isn’t the time for jest—I barely got dressed—I mean—” Sebastian groaned. The dark circles under his eyes suggested he’d been up all night. “Sunset. Harvest. Damn the bone witch to darkest rest!”

Kaz’s shadows darkened the path at our feet. “I can already tell this is a mistake.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian muttered. “I didn’t want to be tardy.”