Page 131 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

I closed my eyes, leaning back, letting the draught spread numbness through my veins. Maybe I should’ve listened to her.

No. I had a realm to crush and a Heirloom to fix. There was no time for weakness. I tried to collect my thoughts, butthe respite lasted all of two seconds before I heard footsteps. I recognized them immediately.

Arabella.

I tried to put on my usual mask of calm. Straightening in my chair, I kept my face carefully composed. Or so I hoped. The door opened without the courtesy of a knock. Arabella paused in the threshold, scanning my features before striding forward.

“What happened?” she demanded, her eyes raking over my disheveled clothes. “Vex practically ran straight into me. She seemed rattled.”

“Nothing,” I lied, functional enough to sound dismissive.

“Liar,” she snapped. “Your shirt is glowing.”

I glanced down. Indeed, the area around my forearm still glimmered faintly. “It’s a new style. Very trendy among warlords.”

“Kazimir,” she said in that exasperated tone, crossing to my side. “Show me your arm.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Either you show me, or I rip your sleeve off,” she warned. “Your choice.”

I knew she’d do it. With a resigned sigh, I let her roll up my sleeve. A hiss escaped her lips at the sight: the runes beneath my skin pulsed an angry red, each symbol outlined in raw, infected flesh. She knelt next to the chair, her fingers hovering as if she wanted to touch them but didn’t dare.

“Why is this happening?” she asked in a hushed voice. “I’ve seen your runes flare before, but not… like this.”

“They always sting after I use a lot of magic,” I muttered. “Lately, though, it’s worse.”

“How long has it been worse?” Her gaze pinned me.

“Since the war room fiasco,” I admitted. “I’ve had random flare-ups before, but never this excruciating. The partialHeirloom activation might be accelerating it, or—” I cut off, unwilling to say more. Especially the part about that vision.

Arabella brushed my arm gently with her fingertips. Even that featherlight contact sent a ripple of pain through me, but I endured it. Her concern surprised me, though I tried not to let it show.

“What did you do after I left the training room?” she pressed.

I could’ve lied again. But I met her eyes and found I didn’t want to. “I attempted to create a Bone Behemoth. A construct. I needed a monstrous weapon. It worked for a few seconds… until my runes decided they hated me.”

Her expression flickered between horror and fascination. “Bone… behemoth. Did you seriously piece together a giant skeleton with your magic?”

I offered a mirthless smirk. “I nearly had it under my command before everything went to hell. Then it collapsed and took me along for the ride.”

She shook her head like she couldn’t believe my recklessness. “How many times can you do this before it kills you? Before your magic tears you apart from the inside?”

I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t know; I only knew I couldn’t stop. Auremar was moving against us, and the Heirloom remained broken. I had only one path forward: keep fighting, keep forging new horrors to defend my territory and the people in it.

Arabella examined the runes more closely. “Let me help you. Maybe I can ease the pain.”

“It won’t work,” I warned. “Regular healing magic won’t go near these runes. They’re carved into my essence.”

“Good thing I’m not regular,” she retorted, meeting my gaze head-on. “Let me try.”

I hesitated, torn between making a snarky remark and giving in to the throbbing misery. Eventually, I nodded. “Go ahead.”

Arabella laid her hand fully across the cluster of runes. A knife of agony ripped down my arm, but I remained still. She closed her eyes and summoned a gentle swirl of magic. My breath caught when I felt warmth flow inside me, far from the scorching brand that typically accompanied my own spells. Her power took on a deft, coaxing shape, as though creating channels for a raging waterfall. The runes’ angry flare began to subside, tapering to a deep ache I could endure. I inhaled shakily, flexing my fingers.

It was… manageable. Not gone, but no longer threatening to break me. I stared at her, half in awe and half uneasy at her skill. “How did you do that?”

“I listened,” she said simply. “The magic told me those runes are meant to channel power, but something is blocking them. Something external. I just gave them an outlet, let them redirect a portion of the surge.”

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