Page 173 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

Father nodded, sweat beading on his forehead. “For centuries, Solandris has built its kingdom atop a monster’s cage.”

“And Auremar’s messing with it,” I realized. “Drawing power from something that should never be awakened.”

“He’s grown greedy,” Father said quietly. “Or desperate. I suspect he realized I knew too much.”

My truth-sense hummed, but it wasn’t sounding any alarms. This was genuine. Kazimir’s voice cut in like a blade. “So you offered your daughter’s magical blood as a bargaining chip?”

Father stiffened. “It was a chance to elevate House Evenfall?—”

“A staggering display of fatherly devotion,” I said flatly. “What does the king want with me?”

“He said he wanted an heir.”

“Auremar already has heirs,” I spat. “Did you not think it might have something to do with his dark schemes?”

My father studied the floor. “I told you… I’m not supposed to know.”

“And how didyoulearn all this?” Kazimir pressed.

Father recounted a sordid tale from his youth—drunken nights at court, Auremar’s loose lips and dark appetites, a secret spilled in confidence that Auremar didn’t seem to remember the next morning. “He suspected I knew,” Father mumbled. “My influence waned. When he made it known he was looking to marry again, I reminded him of my daughter, and told him of her power.”

“Even knowing what he was like,” I said with disgust. “What he was doing. And the suppression runes? The tower?”

“I did what was necessary to keep you manageable,” he said coldly.

“Tobreakme, you mean.” Magic sparked in my fingertips, but I held it back because my truth-sense was tingling again. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

His silence was damning.

A slow, glacier-cold anger churned through me, dredging up memories of isolation, fear, and betrayal. And even now, my father couldn’t admit to everything he’d done. I extended my hand until it rested against Father’s chest. “I’ve learned how to reverse my healing magic. I wonder how effectively I can target one organ. Your left lung, perhaps?”

Terror flooded Father’s face. “Arabella, you wouldn’t?—”

“Why not?” I asked with a thin smile. “You taught me that blood means nothing if it stands in the way of ambition.”

I pictured the lung in my mind, seized it with that lethal part of my magic, andsqueezed. He wheezed, eyes bulging. I felt a dull satisfaction in seeing him panic, but also a sick sense of emptiness. Still, I didn’t pull back right away.

Only when his lips turned a ghastly shade did I relent. He slumped, gulping air, tears streaking his face.

“Ready to talk?” I asked, voice shaking only slightly.

He gave a jerky nod. “The King’s mages,” he croaked. “They… altered your mind. When you first manifested power, you refused to obey, so they made you forget. As you got older, I locked you in that tower, used runes to keep you docile.”

My stomach churned. “I don’t remember defying anyone.”

“Right. Because they made sure you wouldn’t.” His gaze slid away. “Your mother… she wasn’t supposed to be there that night.”

Ice filled my veins. “What night?”

“The night they took your memories.” He licked his lips. “But she found out. And she broke through years of suppression spells her family had placed onherto protect you. It… killed her. The backlash. You witnessed everything.”

An odd numbness spread through me, as though my body refused to feel the full crush of this revelation. “Mother died of a fever when I was eight.” It was a fact etched into my memory, solid and unshakeable.

“No,” he whispered with a helpless shrug. “That’s the story we arranged so you wouldn’t question it. You saw it all, and you screamed for three days straight. That’s why they had to be so thorough. They took that memory, too.”

I stumbled back as if he’d struck me. The room tilted. “I watched her die?”

“You did.” His voice was hollow. He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

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