Page 155 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

Dizzy, I whirled in place, catching glimpses of wooden limbs and metal edges all around. I started to summon my golden energy again, but a panicked voice in my head said there were too many, and a construct simply absorbed my distracted attempt.

The next blow nearly took my head off. I dropped and rolled, feeling the sword whistle past. One construct lunged again, but I’d lost track of the rest. I was done if I didn’t adapt.

“Do something else,” Kazimir called, as though reading my mind. “Don’t let it siphon your healing power.”

I let my next breath go slow and steady, summoning a short sword from shadow. Its blade glimmered obsidian-dark. The nearest construct slashed at me. I met its blade with my shadow sword, half expecting a rebound. But it sliced through the blunted weapon with a brutal hiss.

One construct down. The others attacked in unison. I evaded low strikes, parried overhead ones, letting the ephemeral blade reshape in my hand whenever tension threatened to break it. My fear fell away, replaced by raw focus. A wave of my free hand conjured shadowy tendrils that snagged a construct by its ankle. My sword cleaved through its chest.

Another came at my flank. I whirled, blocking with an edge of living darkness. The final construct swung a heavy ax that crunched into my conjured blade, fracturing it. Desperate, I pivoted and re-formed the shadow into a curved scythe, hooking its wooden neck and yanking forward. Its next strike glanced off my shoulder, but I pressed closer, biting down the pain as I hewed into its torso. It broke apart with a hollow crack.

Panting, I glanced around to confirm they were all destroyed. My arms shook from exhaustion and sheer expenditure of magic.

Kazimir lifted his hand to still the final, twitching fragments of wood. “Enough.”

I sank to one knee, breathing hard. My shoulder throbbed where the ax had clipped me, and I’d have bruises for days. At least there was no blood.

Then one of the constructs jerked upright with a wild screech of gears, as if possessed. Its limbs moved in disjointed spasms, weapon raised. I threw myself aside, but it rushed me with speed that nearly defied logic.

Kazimir cursed. “Something’s interfering with my control.” He tried to blast it with shadow energy, but the construct barely faltered.

I backpedaled. “Why?”

“Likely an overload from your healing magic. It’s scrambled the enchantments.”

“Neat timing,” I muttered, hissing as the construct’s ax swung for my face. I blocked with the battered remains of my shadow scythe. Splinters of wood flew as the construct overpowered me, driving me to the ground.

It raised the weapon for a killing blow. I scrambled, conjuring a smaller dagger of shadow, and slashed wildly at its wooden legs. I nicked one joint, but not enough to cripple it.

The ax whistled down, catching me across the same shoulder that was already injured. Agony exploded through me even as I rolled free. Another strike was coming—I braced?—

Kazimir surged forward, unleashing a wave of dominion magic so potent it made my hair stand on end. The construct froze mid-attack, limbs splayed. Then it collapsed in a clatter of wood and metal.

Tension hung in the air as we both tried to steady our breathing. He turned, features softening the instant he saw my shoulder.

“You’re hurt,” he said, voice low.

“It’s fine.” I winced, touching the bruised area.

He walked me to a nearby table with a first-aid kit. Carefully, he helped me peel away my vest and jacket to inspect the skin. The bruise was large, but the skin had barely broken.

I tried calling on my healing magic. Golden light flickered weakly around my fingers but failed to take hold. “I’ve never been very good at healing myself,” I admitted.

“This might sting.” He poured a clear liquid over it, rubbing gently until the pain dulled.

When it felt better, he exhaled, lingering close to my side. I let myself lean into him, just enough to feel the warmth of his shoulder against my cheek. We stood there a moment, silent except for the flicker of torches and the lingering adrenaline.

I was exhausted, and the thought of taking all those stairs back to bed made me want to just sink to the floor in surrender.

I looked up at Kazimir and forced a small, helpless smile. “It still smarts. Maybe you could help me back to our chambers?”

His brow raised. “Are you still trying to tempt me into ignoring the Heirloom’s restraints, Lady Blackrose?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said innocently.

“Of course not.” A slow smile curled over his mouth. “But I suppose you’d like me to carry you up all those stairs?”

I shrugged, then regretted it because my shoulder twinged. “Well, if you insist.”

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