Page 72 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Sebastian swayed. “When I was eight, I accidentally turned my father’s entire study into a greenhouse during a particularly tense lesson on trade negotiations.”

“The same kinds of flowers?” I asked, lining up my next throw.

“Varies by emotion.” He touched a blue bloom—a tiny morning glory—and it disappeared.

“That’s adorable,” I said, then immediately felt bad when he looked mortified. “I mean it’s sweet!”

“Arabella finds everything adorable,” Kazimir said. “Yesterday she called my shadow warriors ‘cute little murder puppets.’ ”

“They are, though. The way they prowl around all menacing.” I mimicked their stalking motion, nearly dropping my organ.

“You’re drunk,” he observed.

“You’re pretty,” I shot back.

Captain Brecca made a note in her book. “Three to one odds on Lady Blackrose initiating public displays of affection within the hour.”

“I’ll take that action,” Thorne said.

We’d been playing for a while when I finally asked the question I’d been wondering about. “Sebastian, why didn’t you ever write? After… everything?”

He missed his throw so badly the organ went backward. After his requisite drink, he said quietly, “Your father told me you were sick. Said the healers recommended no visitors, no letters, nothing that might upset you.”

“That bastard.”

“I should have known better. Should have tried harder.” He looked at me with those earnest violet eyes. “I’m sorry, Bella.”

I hadn’t heard that nickname in years. “It’s not your fault.”

Kazimir’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. Through our bond, I felt his rage at my father simmering just below the surface.

“Next round,” Brecca announced. “Score’s tied, somehow, despite Lord Sebastian’s complete inability to aim.”

“The ship keeps moving!” Sebastian protested.

“The ship’s been steady as stone for the last hour,” Thorne pointed out.

We’d moved on to the mystery organs now, things that defied identification and probably belonged to creatures that had too many legs.

“I wish Vex were here,” I said, watching Griffin attempt to calculate the perfect throwing angle while swaying dangerously. “She’d destroy all of you at this.”

“Vex doesn’t play games,” Kazimir said, then added, “unless it’s eyeball golf.”

“She played cards with me last week.”

He turned to stare at me. “She what?”

“Beat me six hands out of seven, too.” I landed another throw, though it was getting harder to aim with the moonshine making everything fuzzy. “Why is that weird?”

“Vex doesn’t do things for fun,” Thorne said. “She works, she organizes, she occasionally threatens people with elaborate death scenarios, but she doesn’t play.”

“Maybe she just needed someone to ask,” Sebastian suggested, then immediately looked like he regretted speaking.

“Or maybe,” Griffin said, glasses now completely askew, “she’s been replaced by a doppelganger! We should test her when we return. I have a kit for that.”

“You do?” I swayed on my feet and landed against Kaz’s solid chest. He wrapped an arm around my waist to keep me steady.

“I have kits for everything. Detecting poison, identifying cursed objects, determining if your reflection has gained sentience—”