Page 128 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

All of us turned to him.

Griffin swallowed, fiddling with a scorched corner of his robe. “As you requested, I’ve been researching the Heirloom’s instability since the first fractures. Based on its reaction now, I suspect the only way to prevent further damage is for you and Lady Blackrose to... well, to put it delicately... to abstain.”

Kazimir gave the enchanter a hard stare. “Abstain.”

Griffin coughed. “Yes, my lord. From all forms of physical intimacy. If the crown is responding to your magical bond, then additional surges could prove catastrophic. The next one might not just wreck the citadel. It could destabilize the ley lines across the entire Western Realms.”

My stomach twisted. “How catastrophic are we talking?”

“Potentially devastating,” Griffin said quietly. “We could lose entire regions. Possibly more. This artifact is old enough andconnected enough that if it shatters while active, the backlash might be unstoppable.”

Dread hollowed me out. I joked about wanting Solandris to burn, but not at the cost of an entire realm’s destruction. Kazimir seemed equally rattled. I noticed how his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“Fantastic,” I said, voice dripping dark sarcasm. “We can destroy swaths of civilization while achieving Kazimir’s dream of punishing Solandris. Doesn’t that solve multiple problems at once?”

He cast me a sideways glare, though I caught a faint twitch of amusement in his mouth. “This isn’t the time for gallows humor, Arabella.”

I shrugged. “It’s my coping mechanism.”

Kazimir let out a sigh. “How long do we have to... abstain?” He said the word with a pained expression.

Griffin winced. “Weeks, maybe months—until we stabilize the Heirloom or discover a new method of containing it.”

Kazimir and I exchanged a sharp glance. I felt a sinking sense of loss that startled me with its intensity. Foolish as it was, I’d grown used to the notion of indulging in him, especially after we’d finally relented to the inevitable.

He turned to me, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. “Well, this complicates things.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” I muttered.

Kazimir’s eyes held mine for a long moment. “We’ll figure something out,” he said quietly, just for me. “Though I’m afraid we might have to hold off on exploring some of those fantasies of yours.”

I swallowed hard, acutely aware of our audience. “Perhaps we should focus on the potential world-ending crisis first?”

He sighed dramatically. “Always so practical.” But he turned back to the others.

Sims muttered something about a “Doom Scroll” to Thorne, but Kazimir snapped back into leader mode before I could ask questions. He delegated orders with brisk efficiency, telling Vex to oversee repairs, instructing Thorne to double the guard to account for the strained wards, and counseling Sims to alert our outposts. Everyone scattered, leaving just Kazimir and me in the presence of the fractured Heirloom.

I stared at the crown’s jagged edges. That crack might as well have run through me, too. Everything in my life had become shaped by this artifact—my marriage, the dark power swirling in my veins, and even the raw connection Kazimir and I shared. If it shattered, what then?

“So,” I said quietly, wrapping my arms around myself. “Does this mean that was the last time we can ever... you know?”

Kazimir’s sigh matched the weary lines on his face. “Not if I have any say in it. But for now, we have to play by the Heirloom’s rules.”

For once, I dropped the pretense of flippancy. “Then we need to fix this quickly.”

Under that familiar arrogant tilt of his chin, I saw genuine worry. “Indeed,” he said, taking my hand. Even that small contact felt heightened. “We’ll find a solution, Arabella. And after that...” His lip curled into a wicked hint of a smile. “I have a rather long list of fantasies to work through with you.”

Despite the near-apocalypse swirling around, I felt an undeniable thrill at the thought. “Right,” I said, my voice catching. “Fantasies.”

We stood there, both ignoring the flickering purple aura that threatened us all, locked in some twisted attempt at romantic tension. Then, like the universe needed to remind us of bigger problems, a tremor groaned through the stone walls.

We jerked apart.

“Let’s go,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “We’ve got a realm to save—so we can ruin it on our own terms.”

Kazimir’s laugh was low and begrudgingly affectionate. “What a practical sentiment. You really do fit right in with me, Lady Blackrose.”

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