Page 180 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

I shoved him aside with a vicious elbow. “She’s in there!” Panic seared every nerve. I slammed a wave of force that sent Thorne reeling and bolted forward. Then the archway ahead cracked wide, revealing the endless drop below Skyspire. I almost pitched into it. Thorne yanked me back just as the tower coughed out one final, violent groan and caved in on itself, collapsing floor by floor.

Rage, cold and lethal, rose in my chest. I glared at Thorne, my breath catching in ragged spurts. “What have you done?”

His face was grim under trails of blood. “If she’s still alive, my lord, the entanglement would tell you… yes?”

He was right. I still felt that bond through a haze of unreal pain, but still there. If she had vanished entirely, I would’ve known. So she had to be breathing. She had to.

Dust coated everything, hung in the air. The tower was gone, reduced to a jagged crater. I refused to believe she lay buried beneath it.

Thorne coughed. “The Guild forces are scattering. We need orders.”

Orders. Right. I forced myself to think like a warlord again, though my chest felt strangled. “Take prisoners—throw them in the dungeon. Everyone else looks for Lady Blackrose. Tear the fortress apart if you have to.”

He nodded sharply and ran off, shouting commands. I stumbled ahead, ignoring the throbbing in my side. Collapsed corridors, twisted iron, and dripping carnage surrounded me. My shadow warriors flickered at the edges of my vision, failing as I weakened.

Griffin stood near a heap of rubble, half his face burned. When he spotted me, he lurched forward, leaning on a shattered pillar. “They used some artifact to blind our wards,” he said. “I managed to cripple one of their mages, but?—”

“Worry about it later,” I snapped, forcing each step. “Have you seen Arabella at all?”

He shook his head apologetically. “None. Maybe the Observatory?”

“Then come with me.”

We slogged through more rubble and thick layers of dust. The Observatory dome had cracked like an eggshell, and the crystals powering the lightning bridges flickered. Unconscious on the floor lay Sir Darian Lightbringer, his beloved righteousness failing him when he tried to manipulate the wards.

A harsh laugh broke from my lips. “Alive. Unfortunate for him.” I bound him in swirling shadows. “I’ll let my wife decide his fate.”

My ribs ached with every breath. She had gone and done something insane, and I should’ve protected her from that choice. Now I felt her presence skitter through me. It kept me upright, but barely. I swallowed back a curse, ignoring the lines of wounded soldiers stumbling through the broken halls. Reports hammered me from all sides: no sign of Arabella here, there, anywhere. Portions of the fortress had collapsed into inaccessible pockets of ruin. The panic building inside me threatened to ignite.

Vex found me next. She was bruised and winded, but alive. Her eyes darted around as if she hoped to see Arabella at my side. “Skyspire’s mostly secured. We’ve captured or killed all the Guild members we found. No sign of her anywhere.” Her voice wavered just enough for me to notice. “What about the Heirloom?”

I gave a ragged laugh. “Possibly healed, possibly destroyed, I have no idea.” My chest heaved. “I can feel her, though.”

Vex fell silent, her gaze set on me with an unsettling blend of sympathy and dread. Trying not to tear her apart out of pure frustration, I stared past the Observatory window. Through the gloom, I glimpsed Nyx’s dark shape slicing through the clouds, headed for a far-flung shard of floating rock—one that hovered beyond the usual bridges, when they were functional.

“Griffin,” I barked, gesturing to the flickering crystal console, “make me a bridge. She’s going after Arabella.”

He winced. “It’s wrecked, my lord. I’d need hours.”

“Then I’ll open a portal.” Easy enough, if I wanted to risk blowing out every last rune carved into me. I ignored the fresh wave of dizziness.

Vex stepped in front of me, arms spread. “You’ll kill yourself,” she warned. “What do I tell her if you end up dead after trying for heroics?”

A scornful chuckle ripped from my throat as I lifted my hands for the spell. I needed anger to keep going. “Tell her I was worried about the Heirloom,” I growled. “She might find that funny.”

Forcing each sign and utterance into place, I tasted blood as I breathed through the sharp ache in my lungs. The portal crackled in front of me, a savage swirl of violet and black spatters that stung my palms. My knees buckled, and I heard Vex call my name in alarm.

I hurled myself through anyway. Pain raked across every nerve as that desperate, single-minded need exploded in my chest.Arabella, stay alive. I’m coming.

73

CLAIM EACH OTHER PROPERLY (NO ARTIFACTS WERE HARMED)

ARABELLA

The frigid wind didn’t give a damn about my custom training leathers, even if they were magically reinforced. It ripped across the desolate chunk of rock masquerading as an island, finding every tear and thin spot in my gear. Still, I mentally thanked Kazimir for commissioning these leathers; they had saved me from being crushed before I put the Heirloom on my head.

I huddled near the base of a gnarled, lifeless-looking tree, knees pulled tight to my chest. My head throbbed with a dull ache, and the Heirloom felt different—no longer the cold, demanding artifact it once was, but humming with a quiet, steady current of life that resonated in my bones. Taking it off felt… wrong.

---