Page 8 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Skyspire had become my sanctuary with Arabella. Our sanctuary. I’d grown accustomed to having her entirely to myself, with no competition for her attention save my advisors and the dragon. The thought of sharing that space with someone from her past, someone who knew her before she became my wife, was unexpectedly galling.

But she had taken Sebastian under her protection, and despite my overwhelming desire to feed him to Nyx, I would honor that.

“Fine,” I conceded. “But try anything suspicious and you’ll discover firsthand why my enemies don’t live long enough to spread rumors.”

“Understood.” Sebastian inclined his head. “Thank you, Lord Blackrose. I won’t forget this kindness.”

My eye twitched. I considered housing Lord Sebastian in my trophy room, where he would be surrounded by the gentle clinking of enemy skulls in the evening breeze. “It’s not kindness. It’s strategy. If Auremar wants you badly enough to send troops, I want to know why.”

A loud crunch from outside made Sebastian jump. A fresh slurping noise followed, wet and enthusiastic.

“Is the dragon always like this?” he asked weakly.

“No.” I smiled with dark cheerfulness. “Usually she’s much worse.”

Arabella nudged my leg under the table. Hard. “Nyx’s appetite has increased dramatically in recent weeks.”

“I see.” Sebastian was clearly trying not to listen to the dragon’s feasting. “And will she accompany us to Skyspire?”

“Of course,” Arabella and I said at the same time.

Alarm flashed across Sebastian’s face before he smoothed it into a polite smile. “Wonderful. I’ve always found dragons fascinating.”

“They find heroic bloodlines delicious.” I paused for effect. “Something in the marrow, or so I’ve heard.”

“Kazimir,” Arabella warned.

I shrugged innocently. “Just sharing scientific facts.”

Lord Sebastian might not be easily frightened away, but I had an entire citadel at my disposal. Surely I could make him uncomfortable enough to leave voluntarily.

And if not, well, accidents happened at Skyspire all the time.

Sebastian glanced between us, a calculating intelligence in his eyes. “You two seem well matched.”

“We are.” I draped my arm possessively across the back of Arabella’s chair. “Perfectly matched, in fact.”

“Against all odds,” Arabella added drily, though she was smiling.

Sebastian’s gaze lingered on her. “I’m glad to see you happy, Arabella. It’s been too long since we spoke.”

“Almost as if her father deliberately kept her isolated,” I commented. “Strange, that.”

“Not strange at all,” Sebastian replied, surprising me with his frankness. “Lord Evenfall’s treatment of Lady Arabella was well-known among the nobility, though few dared speak of it openly. My father tried to intervene once, after an incident. Lord Evenfall threatened to dissolve all trade agreements with the Northern Peaks in retaliation.”

Arabella stiffened. Through our bond, I felt a flicker of resentment. Not at Sebastian, but at the reminder of how the world had stood by and watched.

I brushed my thumb over her shoulder in support. “What incident?”

Sebastian looked to Arabella, a question in his eyes. I watched her for the cascade of emotions—anger, shame, bitterness.

But there was nothing. Instead, a faint line appeared between her brows. She nodded slightly, giving permission.

“When we were fifteen,” Sebastian began carefully, “my family hosted an Autumnal Equinox celebration. Arabella attended with her father. During the festivities, I found her locked in a root cellar. She’d been there for hours because she’d spoken to a young man without her father’s permission.”

I felt Arabella’s confusion spike. A cold, hollow sensation followed by a wave of secondhand humiliation and a slow-burning rage that mirrored my own. Her face, however, remained a carefully controlled mask.

She glanced at me with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. She didn’t remember.