Page 80 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

What I didn’t say, but knew she would understand, was that the staff were also my eyes and ears within the Spire. They reported everything they saw and heard, providing invaluable intelligence on the other Syndicate members’ activities.

A door at the far end of the chamber opened, and a tall, thin man emerged. His shoulder-length gray hair was tied back, and he wore the standard servant’s uniform but with throwing knives strapped to his thighs.

“Lord Blackrose,” he said, bowing. “Lady Blackrose. Welcome to the Spire. I am Marlowe, the head of staff at the apartment.”

“Marlowe’s managed this residence for five years,” I explained to Arabella. “He ensures everything runs smoothly in my absence.”

“I’ve prepared your rooms as instructed, my lord,” he said.

I turned to our companions. “Thorne, you know where your quarters are. Griffin, Sebastian—Marlowe will show you to yours.”

Marlowe gestured for Griffin and Sebastian to follow him. “This way, gentlemen.”

As they moved toward the staircase, Griffin hefted his satchel higher, trying to look casual and failing miserably. The bag clinked.

“Griffin.” My voice was dangerously soft. “What’s in the bag?”

He clutched it protectively. “Just some personal items. Books.”

“They clink.” I took a step toward him, and he backed up until he hit the door.

“Metallic books?”

I held out my hand. “Show me.”

With the air of a condemned man, Griffin opened his satchel. Inside, nestled between actual books, was a device that looked like an octopus mated with a clock. Gears protruded at odd angles, tentacle-like tubes connected various components, and the whole thing hummed with barely contained energy.

“Is that going to explode?” I asked with forced calm.

“No!” Griffin said quickly. “Well, not explode exactly. More of a controlled implosion that creates a localized temporal bubble—”

“I specifically ordered you not to bring anything that could explode,” I reminded him, my voice dropping to a register that made even Thorne stand a little straighter. “Did I not make myself clear?”

“You did, my lord, but—”

“But you decided my direct order was more of a suggestion?”

Griffin clutched his bag tighter, and his mouth began opening and closing as my shadows curled around his neck. They weren’t touching him, not yet, but for the thousandth time since I’d hired the enchanter, I was seriously considering it.

To family, Arabella had toasted. But my experience with family was they were always trying to kill you in one way or another. Griffin was no exception. In fact, he proved the rule.

My shadows curled tighter, and for a split second, I wanted to squeeze. Not just threaten—actually crush the life from him. Watch his eyes bulge, hear the wet snap of—

I reined the shadows back sharply, my jaw clenching. What the hell was wrong with me?

“I—I didn’t think—” he stammered.

“No, you didn’t.” I plucked the device from his hands. “Thorne.”

My security chief stepped up, having watched the entire exchange with his usual stoicism.

“Lock this in the warded safe until we leave,” I ordered. “If Griffin asks for it before I give permission, break one of his fingers.”

Griffin made a strangled sound. “It’s perfectly safe. I’ve tested it exten—”

A sharp look from me silenced him. “The last time you said something was ‘perfectly safe,’ a suit of armor developed a bloodthirsty personality and beheaded three servants before I got there.”

Oblivious to the drama unfolding below, Sebastian’s voice drifted down the stairs in a cry of delight. “Is this a fully stocked kitchen?”