Page 12 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

I stood there, my pulse still thrumming, and replayed every line of our bizarre negotiation. Had I truly gained a measure of freedom, or had he merely indulged me to secure my compliance?

Until you ask for it.The arrogance of the man was breathtaking.

My attention caught on the black roses by the fireplace. Their petals seemed to rustle like they were whispering, mocking my attempt at control.

“Shut up,” I muttered at them, feeling more foolish than ever. “You’re just flowers.”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could have sworn they laughed.

6

PLAY MAD ALCHEMIST AT 3?A.M.?(ETHICS SOLD SEPARATELY)

KAZIMIR

Dawn was still hours away, and I’d already accepted that sleep was a lost cause. My thoughts flitted between the ceremony tomorrow and the warded suite containing one furious Lady Evenfall.

I left my chambers, locking the door with both key and spell. Anyone with a shred of self-preservation would steer clear, but I couldn’t be certain of my new fiancée. The fortress lay quiet, except for the occasional hum of the floating orblights. Storm clouds rolled outside a high window, hurling lightning across the sky and sending thunder vibrating through the airborne stone.

I paused at Lady Evenfall’s quarters, pressing my fingers to the still-warm sigils I’d etched hours before. The wards thrummed in response.

I huffed out a laugh. “I was going to toss her in the dungeon after the ceremony,” I muttered. “Now she’ll roam my halls, probably conjuring who-knows-what and setting my staff on fire. Brilliance, Kazimir. Truly.”

I supposed it was my own fault. I’d planned to break her resistance, lock her away, complete the marriage ritual, claim the Heirloom’s powers. Done.

Simple. Efficient. Textbook villainy.

Yet my glorious plan had devolved into negotiating freedoms with her as though we were equals. No, worse: I’d activelyconcededpoints. Next, I might have to offer brunch privileges for her and the minions.

I descended five levels below my private rooms to my cramped, chaotic workroom. Racks of parchment, precarious stacks of ancient books, alchemical beakers, and half-finished mechanical contraptions littered every inch of space along the walls.

In the center, one broad workbench remained clear. I’d been itching to test something since discovering Lady Evenfall’s blood on the enchanted roses, which weren’t just decorative but designed to sample the blood of anyone who touched them. And I’d bottled that drop while she wasn’t looking.

With a gesture, I lit oil lamps around the room and arranged my instruments. I retrieved the small vial from my pocket. Before I could go further, a knock sounded at the door.

“Enter,” I called, not bothering to look up.

In crept Pip, carrying a cage with a nightingale inside. He set it on the bench, his hands trembling. “The bird you requested, my lord,” he said softly.

I scrutinized the terrified little thing, tapping on the bars until it froze under my magic—no point chasing it around the workroom. On the periphery, I felt Pip shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“What?” I asked, letting annoyance creep into my voice. “I assume you have a reason to linger?”

His throat bobbed. “The kitchen staff asked about special requests for the wedding feast.”

My fist slammed onto the table, rattling glass and sending flasks skidding to the edge.Of all the trivialities...

“This can’t wait until daylight?”

He stammered, “S-Sims feared a repeat of—of the last feast, my lord—when Griffin animated the entrees?—”

“Fine,” I snapped, pointing toward the door. “Tell them to do whatever they like. Now get out before your sniveling anxiety ruins my concentration.”

Pip bowed, turned too quickly, and smacked into a shelf. Several empty vials fell to the floor and shattered.

“I’m sorry, my lord!” he gasped, crouching to gather the shards and cutting his hand in the process.

I strode over in three strides and yanked him upright by the collar. The familiar dark swirl of my dominion magic crackled in the room.

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