Page 136 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

He flinched, though he held his ground. “I—I was only wondering if you needed anything, my lord.”

I forced out a slow breath, tamping down my temper. “I’m looking for Lady Blackrose. Have you seen her?”

Relief spread across his face. “Yes, my lord! I saw her heading toward the High Gardens maybe half an hour ago.”

Of course. The one place I barely visited. I crossed an outdoor walkway toward the western tower, taking spiral steps two at a time, shadows crawling after me. By the time I reached the landing, the darkness around me had deepened to a near-inky black.

I paused at the glass doors, scanning the lush interior. Thick greenery climbed archways, vines heavy with flowers, exotic fruit glowing with a faint magical sheen, herbs growing in intricate magic-boosting patterns. And there she was, perched on a stone bench beneath a canopy of luminescent leaves, her hair lit by midday sunlight.

She looked radiant in that golden haze. Beautiful. Irritating.

Almost as if she sensed me, she stiffened, closed her book, and slipped deeper into the greenery toward a side door leading to the apiary.

My shadows spilled through the doors when I strode in, dimming the warm sunlight and causing a few blossoms to curl inward. I followed the path she had taken.

Stone walls enclosed that small patio, keeping out the worst winds. Enchanted beehives dotted the perimeter. Griffin stood at the center, bent over a hive with one of his absurdly long fingers hooked under a dripping honeycomb. And there stood Arabella next to him, feigning a deep interest in absolutely anything except me. I hoped no one expected me to appear fearsome while chasing my wife through a garden of docile bees.

“—and you say the honey gains magical properties?” she asked, though her posture looked rigid.

Griffin nodded, entirely oblivious to the tension crackling in the courtyard. “Indeed, my lady! Bees that feed on black roses produce honey infused with trace elements of shadow magic. It’s remarkably versatile in potions... and other uses. Enhances pleasure, induces prophetic dreams, and makes a decent cure for sore throats. Not sure why people stop asking once they hear that first part.”

Arabella watched a bee land on her tunic. “Enhances pleasure?”

Griffin’s cheeks pinked, and he stumbled over his words. His lanky body seemed to shrink in on itself, as if he wanted to vanish. Clearly, the conversation had gotten away from him.

“Sex magic,” I said flatly, and felt a wry satisfaction at Arabella’s blush. “It forms a connection between partners. If you apply it to certain areas, one can feel the other person’s sensations.” I let my gaze slide over her in a slow sweep. “Every. Single. Sensation.”

Griffin turned a deep shade of scarlet, suddenly paying almost reverent attention to his sleeves. A lone bee circled his head in confused loops, but he stayed put, as if too mortified to move.

Arabella held my gaze, her pupils widening. “And you’ve confirmed these effects for yourself, Lord Blackrose?”

“Not yet. I’ve kept a jar for when I find the right partner.” Her breath hitched, feeding my ego. “I didn’t realize you were interested in beekeeping.”

She swallowed. “There’s plenty you don’t know about me. If you’d bothered to ask?—”

“I’ve hardly had the chance,” I cut in. “Hard to ask questions when my wife slips off the moment I walk in.”

Griffin stood there blinking at us both, as if he somehow regretted existing. He cleared his throat and took a cautious step back. “I should finish checking these hives,” he ventured. “My apprentice normally cares for them, but he’s in the infirmary… Stung repeatedly. Rather severe reaction.”

I flicked my gaze at the honeycomb. Dark amber, potent with shadow-laced potential. “So, these bees are temperamental?”

“They require a specific approach,” he said. “I’d prefer not to hand that job to anyone else.” He gave a half shrug. “Unless you’d like them to die...?”

I glanced at the shimmering comb. “No,” I conceded. “But be quick about it.”

Griffin resumed his work, though he seemed painfully aware of our conversation. I turned my attention back to Arabella.

“I asked for space,” she said, determinedly calm. “You agreed.”

“Actually, you asked for space, not to vanish entirely.” I took a purposeful step forward. “And things have changed.”

She frowned. “Changed how?”

“The Hero’s Guild is mobilizing. Morana sent word yesterday, and my scouts confirmed it. Three companies, supposedly for ‘training’ but inching closer to my border. Apparently, the king has been holding closed-door meetings with the Guild for days.”

Griffin paused, honey dripping off the comb. “Curious timing.”

Despite his previous half-hearted attempts to threaten me, Auremar had never sent the Hero’s Guild. Those self-righteous warriors with their enchanted weapons and state-sponsored piety had always stayed within Solandris’s borders, polishing their armor and accepting medals for heroically slaying garden pests they called “monsters.” I’d almost be flattered they were finally considering me worth the trip, if it weren’t so irritatingly inconvenient.

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