Page 77 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Kazimir glanced around our little group, but his gaze landed on Sebastian and stayed there. “The Spire has a way of inviting trouble, so no wandering off and accidentally joining a cult or signing away your soul.”

“That happens here?” I asked.

“Friday is recruitment day,” Thorne rumbled. “Though most new acolytes are dead by Monday. They really should think about changing those initiations.”

I couldn’t tell if he was joking.

The Sky Serpent began its descent toward a dock that jutted from what might have been a shoulder blade. Other vessels were moored there—sleek black ships with red sails, floating platforms powered by bound spirits that wailed softly in the wind, and something that looked like it was made entirely of tentacles.

Nyx launched from the bow with a shriek that echoed off the god’s bones. Heads turned on the docks below. A few figures scrambled backward.

I watched her spiral upward, pink-tinged wings catching an updraft. She was a fearsome creature in her own right—she’d be fine.

“Remember,” Kazimir announced, gathering us all near the helm. “The God Spire operates under different rules than Skyspire. First and foremost, we do not display our full power here.”

Sebastian raised his hand. “Wouldn’t a show of strength be beneficial?”

“The Syndicate values equilibrium above all,” Kazimir said. “No single member can be allowed to outstrip the others too dramatically. And it controls more than most people realize,” Kazimir continued, though he was speaking primarily to Sebastian now. The rest of us were already well-versed in this particular lesson. “They have shadow governments on both sides of the sea, puppet kings who don’t even know they’re dancing on strings. Every major trade route, every significant assassination, every war that’s mysteriously ended or begun—the Syndicate has a hand in it.”

“Controlling them means controlling the world,” I said quietly.

He looked down at me with a smirk. “First Solandris, then the Syndicate. Taking them on now would be like fighting a hydra while standing in a snake pit during an earthquake.”

“How do they manage such vast and varied interests?” Sebastian asked.

“Debt.” Kazimir’s smile was sharp. “Every kingdom needs something eventually. Loans for wars. Magical artifacts for succession crises. Discreet elimination of rivals. The Syndicate provides, and then they own you.”

“But not you,” I offered.

“No, never me.” He adjusted his coat, and I noticed he’d added several subtle touches since this morning—a pin bearing the Syndicate’s seal, rings on specific fingers, a particular fold to his collar that probably meant something to those who knew how to read it. “I spent years making myself indispensable to them. Every member of the Syndicate ended up owing me something, and when the previous Chair of Dominion had an unfortunate accident—”

“That you caused?” I asked.

“That I may have facilitated,” he corrected, “I called in every debt at once. Told them they could either repay me in gold—which would have bankrupted half of them—or give me the vacant Chair of Dominion.”

Sebastian shook his head. “They must have hated that.”

“They still do. But they need me more than they hate me.” He gestured to the Spire. “The Syndicate is built on mutual benefit and mutual blackmail. Everyone has leverage on everyone else. It’s the only way to keep this many villains from murdering one another.”

The ship touched down with barely a bump and the chains began to lower. Captain Brecca was already barking orders to her crew, preparing to resupply while we conducted our business.

Kaz addressed everyone again. “We’re going to be exactly as powerful as they expect us to be. No more, no less.”

We all turned toward the gangplank, where a figure waited for us at the dock.

The Alchemist hadn’t changed since their visit to Skyspire weeks ago, but seeing them here, in a hostile environment, hit differently. Their robes shifted through colors—purple to green to gold to black, never settling, never still. The mask covering the upper half of their face gleamed with symbols. Their smile, the only visible part of their face, was knowing and amused.

Everything about them seemed designed to prevent an accurate assessment, which in a sinister place like the God Spire, meant they were a truly dangerous enemy.

“Showtime,” I whispered, straightening my shoulders and adopting what I hoped was an intimidating expression.

We descended the gangplank, Kazimir leading with me at his side, followed by Thorne, Griffin, and Sebastian. The Alchemist watched our approach, their gloved hands constantly in motion, fingers twitching and gesturing as if casting spells or manipulating unseen energies.

“Lord and Lady Blackrose,” the Alchemist said once we’d disembarked. Their voice had that same musical quality I remembered, neither male nor female. Their gaze shifted to our companions. “Ah, and you’ve brought entertainment. How thoughtful.”

Sebastian stiffened, and I felt a surge of protectiveness. “They’re our associates,” I corrected. “Not entertainment.”

“Of course, of course.” The Alchemist waved a dismissive hand. “Forgive my poor attempt at humor. I know who they are, of course. Master Griffin, good to see you again. And Lord Sebastian of the Northern Peaks. I do so admire a man who can survive both Auremar’s court and Lord Blackrose’s company.” At Sebastian’s look of surprise, the Alchemist continued, “No need for alarm. It made sense that you would flee to the one couple that could ensure your safety. I hope they request a favor from you in return someday.”