Page 96 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

We sat on opposite benches, carefully not looking at each other. The heat was intense, making it difficult to breathe, let alone maintain my anger. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the sensation rather than the naked man sitting across from me. But that only made me more aware of the sound of his breathing. I felt his gaze on me, dark and hungry and full of things he wasn’t saying.

So much for a honeymoon.

Even though I knew our “honeymoon” was a cover story for our real purpose here, I’d still hoped to enjoy myself a little more than I had so far. The God Spire was fascinating, full of wonders and curiosities I’d never seen before. Under different circumstances, exploring it with Kazimir might have been fun.

The door swung open, letting in a blast of cooler air as an attendant announced that our time was up and the Alchemist was waiting for us.

The dining chamber was a small, elegant room with a table set for three. The Alchemist was already seated. Their customary mask was in place over their eyes, but the skin below was a brilliant shade of pink. Kazimir stepped inside first, putting himself slightly between me and the Alchemist. I noted the protective gesture with a complicated twist of emotion.

“Ah, the happy couple,” they said as we entered. “You look positively radiant, Lady Blackrose.”

“Thank you,” I said, slipping reluctantly into the role of adoring wife as Kazimir pulled out my chair.

Kazimir’s hand lingered on my shoulder as he took his own seat, a possessive gesture that wasn’t entirely for show. Even when we were fighting, there was an undeniable connection between us, a fierce protectiveness that went both ways.

The Alchemist glanced over Kazimir. “Lord Blackrose, your aura is positively crackling with negative energy. Was the massage not long enough?”

“We’re here to discuss business,” Kaz said flatly.

“And we shall.” The Alchemist’s fingers tapped a rhythm against the table. They seemed to decide to let the matter drop. “After we’ve eaten. One should never speak of important matters while hungry—it leads to poor decisions.”

The meal was light but exquisite—delicate pastries filled with what the Alchemist assured us was “ethically sourced” dragon meat (which I declined because Nyx would never forgive me), a salad of rare herbs, and wine that changed color with each sip.

Throughout the meal, Kazimir and I played our parts, exchanging small touches and meaningful glances. If anything, we might have overdone it, my hand resting on his thigh under the table, his arm draped possessively across the back of my chair.

“So refreshing, don’t you think?” The Alchemist settled into their chair with a contented sigh. “Nothing like a good spa day to wash away one’s troubles.”

“Indeed,” I agreed, taking Kazimir’s hand. His fingers interlaced with mine automatically, the gesture so natural it hurt.

“Though one wonders,” he added, his thumb stroking across my knuckles, “why you insisted on meeting here rather than somewhere more conventional.”

“Conventional is so boring.” The Alchemist selected a sugar-dusted pastry in the shape of a tiny dragon. “How was your evening at the Gilded Gallows?”

Kazimir’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I suspect you already know the answer to that.”

“Oh? Did you run into someone you knew?” They bit into the pastry, sending a puff of powdered sugar into the air. The innocent act might have been more convincing if they weren’t literally twinkling with suppressed glee.

“Enough games,” Kazimir growled. “State your business so we can conclude this farce.”

The Alchemist set down their pastry, and suddenly all playfulness vanished from their expression. The shift was so dramatic it felt like the air itself grew heavier.

“Very well,” they said, their musical voice dropping to something more serious. “Let’s discuss why you’re really here, shall we?”

They leaned forward, their ever-shifting robes settling into a deep, midnight blue. “I know you have the Heirloom of Dominion.”

28 Sit Through a Lecture

(The World Is Ending, But First: Mythology)

Kazimir

The silence that followed the Alchemist’s declaration was absolute. Even the ambient sounds of the Spire seemed to pause, as if the dead god was holding its breath.

I leaned back in my chair, affecting disinterest while calculating exactly how quickly I could smother the life from their body. The Alchemist had significant magic, and I wasn’t even sure of all their skills, but that wouldn’t stop me from trying. “That’s a fascinating theory.”

“Theory?” The Alchemist’s mask caught the light as they tilted their head. “Oh, Lord Blackrose. We’re past theories now. The magical signature from Skyspire these past few weeks has been distinctive. Like watching fireworks spell out ‘We Have the Heirloom’ in forty-foot letters.”

Arabella’s hand tightened on mine under the table. Through our bond, I felt her pulse quicken, but outwardly she remained perfectly composed.