Page 138 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

I kept my stare on Arabella. “I’ll read them soon,” I said. “We were discussing our urgent situation.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Vex said, voice guarded but eyes amused. She glanced at Griffin, who pretended deep fascination with his honeycomb. “Shall I give you privacy?”

“No,” Arabella answered quickly. “I was leaving.”

“Were you?” I countered. “We hadn’t decided how to handle the Heirloom.”

“What’s left to say?” she argued, crossing her arms. “Griffin insists we can’t risk more resonance until it stabilizes. So no… physical contact.”

“You seem to think that means avoiding me altogether,” I pointed out.

Griffin, apparently finding some courage, cleared his throat. “Well, the real threat comes from certain intimate acts, not all. The types that trigger significant magical surges.”

Arabella’s cheeks flamed. “Yes, thanks, Griffin. Perfectly clear.”

He continued, oblivious to her embarrassment. “Based on interesting data of the last few days, smaller interactions—mere proximity, if you will—might help maintain your established bond, which could stabilize the artifact rather than worsen it.”

I tilted my head. “So you’re suggesting we stay near each other, but not too near?”

His ears went pink. “Quite so, my lord. Exact thresholds remain… fuzzy.”

Vex coughed, possibly turning laughter into something more dignified. “He means to say, if you both avoid each other entirely, you risk an even bigger blow-up next time you do come into contact.”

Arabella let out a long exhale, casting a resigned look at me. “Fine. I’ll stop avoiding you. But I still need breathing room to deal with everything.”

“Reasonable,” I agreed, and a strangely potent mix of relief and anticipation coursed through me. “We’ll resume training and shared meals.”

She nodded, then turned for the exit. “I’ll see you at dinner.” She disappeared into the High Gardens.

I blinked after her for a moment, keenly aware I could chase her again. But maybe for once, I wouldn’t. No sense in pressing our luck.

Vex and Griffin exchanged glances. A quiet, private amusement flickered between them.

“Something to share?” I asked, tone steely.

Vex straightened. “Not exactly, my lord.”

“Then why the meaningful look?”

Griffin stammered, “We—I just—” He hesitated, then tried not to flinch from my stare. “We’ve been making bets.”

My brows shot up. “Bets?”

Vex glowered at him, but he plowed on. “On whether or not you and Lady Blackrose can hold out until the Heirloom stabilizes before, er… giving in to temptation and obliterating half the Western Realms.”

“Griffin,” Vex muttered, “shut up.”

He made an apologetic grimace. “What can I say? He asked.”

I folded my arms across my chest, torn between anger and reluctant amusement at how well they knew me. “And what are the stakes?”

Griffin’s grin turned sheepish. “I’ve got three gold on you both losing control by the end of the week.”

“And Vex?” I glanced around with a dangerously calm expression. “Do you fancy an apocalypse?”

Vex met my gaze, not flinching. “I put my money on you two behaving, though… barely.”

I stared them down, exasperated. “If Arabella and I stop the world from collapsing, you both owe five gold to the citadel’s repair fund.”

---