Page 91 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

The goblins scattered, their self-preservation instincts overriding their greed. The necromancer attempted to shadow-walk away but was too drunk to manage it properly and ended up face-first in a puddle.

The half ogre was too stupid to run.

The shadows at my feet stretched, solidifying into razor-sharp tendrils that shot toward all five would-be muggers. They screamed. Within seconds, all were suspended in the air, the darkness wrapped around their throats.

“Please,” the necromancer choked out. “We didn’t mean—”

“I’ve had a very trying evening,” I interrupted. “And you’ve just made it worse.”

I tightened the shadows, watching with detached satisfaction as their faces turned purple. The rage that had been burning through me found an outlet in their fear and pain. It would be so easy to keep squeezing until their necks snapped—

“Lord Blackrose!”

Sebastian’s voice broke through my thoughts. I turned to find him still pressed against the wall, surrounded by enough vegetation to count as a small forest. The vines had grown even thicker, some sporting flowers.

“Please,” he said quietly. “Don’t kill them.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He swallowed. “They don’t deserve to die.”

I stared at him incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“I’m afraid I am.” He straightened his jacket, which had been rumpled in the scuffle. “Violence only begets more violence. I prefer to find peaceful solutions.”

The sheer absurdity of his statement cut through my rage. Here he was, cornered in a dark alley by men who clearly meant him harm, and he was advocating for mercy. It was ridiculous. Naive. Utterly heroic.

And somehow, the absurdity of it helped clear my head.

I let out a harsh laugh. “Fine.” I turned back to the dangling villains. “You heard him. He’s feeling merciful.”

I, however, was not. What happened next was quick, efficient, and thoroughly satisfying. By the time I was done, all five were unconscious, bones were broken, and at least two would need magical healing to walk properly again.

I turned back to Sebastian, who had sputtered and rhymed in protest the entire time. “There—not dead. But they might wish they were. You can dismiss those now,” I said irritably at the vines still writhing around him.

“I… yes. Of course.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and the vines began to slowly retract. “I thought you weren’t going to hurt them.”

I smiled coldly. “You said you didn’t want them dead. I obliged.”

Sebastian looked at the villains at my feet, then back at me. “You are correct. Thank you for the assistance, Lord Blackrose.”

“You had enough power there to level half the district,” I snapped. “Why didn’t you use it?”

He blinked at me, genuinely puzzled. “For what?”

“To defend yourself, you imbecile. Those vines could have torn them apart.”

“Oh.” He looked down at the retreating vegetation with surprise, as if seeing it for the first time. “I suppose they could have. That never occurred to me.”

I stared at him.

“Violence isn’t really my forte.” He brushed dirt off his coat. “Besides, they were just desperate people trying to make a living.”

“They were going to rob you. Possibly worse.”

“Yes, well.” He shifted uncomfortably. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

The casual way he said it made something twist in my chest. Not sympathy—I didn’t do sympathy—but a kind of frustrated disbelief. Here was someone with enough magical power to make even me take notice, and he just… allowed people to hurt him.