Page 139 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

Griffin brightened. “So you’re in?”

“Merely acknowledging your insolence,” I corrected, though a corner of my mouth threatened to twitch. “Now get back to your bees, Griffin, then help with the Heirloom.”

I strode away, hearing them mutter in hushed excitement behind me.

“You really think they’ll manage it?” Griffin asked softly.

“Not a chance,” Vex whispered. “And do not tell him I said so.”

I shook my head as I left, the flicker of amusement at war with the cold dread that maybe Vex was right. Because every time Arabella and I collided, we risked losing ourselves again. And next time, we might just bring the entire realm down with us.

56

INTERROGATE THE DYING EX (POISON MAKES THEM CHATTY)

KAZIMIR

I glared at the replacement oak table in the war room, silently cursing Sims for scavenging it from who-knew-where. I would’ve preferred forging a new obsidian table, but “crafting mythical stone furnishings” had apparently slipped a few notches on my priority list. At least the debris was gone, though carpenters hammered and clanged outside, jarring my focus as I tried to plan an entire war in peace.

Arabella sat cross-legged in her chair, studying a thick tome coaxed from our dearly beloved Magister Vellum. He’d been stubborn about letting either of us near his precious library ever since we’d, ah, disrupted the atmosphere in there.

Since our confrontation in the apiary three days ago, we’d reached an uneasy truce. We shared meals, trained together, and maintained the careful distance Griffin had prescribed. Close enough to stabilize our bond, yet far enough to prevent another magical catastrophe. The arrangement was... tolerable. Barely.

She glanced up as I approached, expression half exasperation and half curiosity. “The noise?” she guessed, nodding toward the thunderous pounding outside.

I tried not to look at her for too long. The Heirloom might interpret it as permission to wreak havoc. “Distracting,” I muttered. “For more reasons than I care to narrate.”

She smirked. “I’d offer to help with your focus, but that might be dangerous.”

Her sardonic tone just escalated my irritation, and my desire. “We still have a war to plan,” I said curtly, gesturing for her to keep reading. “Find me answers, and I’ll consider letting you back into the library unsupervised.”

She rolled her eyes. “As though you’re the one keeping me out in the first place.”

The doors creaked open, and Thorne entered. The noise from outside seemed to swell at his back, hammering a discordant rhythm.

“My lord,” Thorne greeted, bowing slightly. “Lady Blackrose.”

I inclined my head for him to speak, while Arabella carefully closed her book. The half-moon shadows under her eyes betrayed long nights of reading, but she still looked infuriatingly resolute, like she’d bite anyone who suggested she rest. Despite her exhaustion, she looked alive, vibrant, and beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with conventional aesthetics and everything to do with the raw?—

Dammit. I was staring again.

Thorne cleared his throat. “We received a message from one of Morana’s guards. A Solandrian noble has been found in the pass. Poisoned, delirious, and apparently babbling about you two.”

Arabella exchanged a glance with me. I scoffed. “Morana’s being helpful again? That’s certainly suspicious.”

“Indeed,” Thorne said. “It’s unusually cooperative of the Viscountess to alert us so promptly. Her guard delivered him to our southern outpost, if we want to question him. The man’sidentity is unknown to them, but the signet ring suggests he’s from Auremar’s court. Vex was already there on business, and she sent word that he’s in a bad state.”

Arabella stood from her chair. “I’ll go.”

“Not alone,” I growled.

She tensed, but nodded.

I gestured at Thorne. “We’ll meet you at the southern outpost.” I turned back to Arabella.

“Let me guess: we’re not going via the Portal Isle, are we?” she asked.

“No. I’m not taking any chances.” I smirked. “Unless you prefer scenic routes with potential traps and assassination attempts?”

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