Page 24 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

Deep down, I knew this diversion was dangerous. Still, I was the Dark Lord. I didn’t need to justify my decisions, even when they made me question my own motives. I forced the uneasy thought aside and stepped back into the clamor of the feast, determined to make this night unfold precisely as I commanded.

11

PLAY THE PART (EVEN IF IT BURNS)

ARABELLA

My knuckles went white around the stem of my goblet. Two hours into this…feast… and Kazimir’s court was descending into hedonism. Gasps and breathless laughter echoed through the banquet hall, punctuated by the clatter of dropped cutlery and the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing.

My cheeks burned, and I hated that I couldn’t tell whether it was embarrassment or fascination. I forced my gaze away from a couple who seemed determined to set the tapestries alight with sheer friction, but everywhere I looked, limbs tangled, clothes disappeared, and bodies explored anatomical positions I’d never even contemplated.

I’d heard whispers of the Dark Lord’s infamous celebrations, of course. Every kingdom had its gossips. But witnessing it firsthand was... educational.

Kazimir, ever the attentive captor, angled his chair toward mine. His dark eyes flicked down to my death grip on the goblet before meeting mine. I deliberately loosened my fingers.

“Your first bacchanal?” he asked softly.

Across the room, a red-haired woman disappeared beneath a table, and the man above her seized a fistful of the tablecloth in unmistakable pleasure. I tried not to stare.

I raised the goblet in a small salute. “I half-expected beheadings or torture demonstrations,” I said, my voice unexpectedly dry.

His dark smile flickered. “I can arrange that after dessert, if you prefer. My executioner is frightfully bored tonight.”

I took a measured sip of wine, using the brief moment to steady myself. My father would have exploded with rage if he’d seen me in this den of revelry—no chaperones, no discreet bows or polite conversations. The thought gave me an illicit thrill of satisfaction.

An impeccably tailored man sidled up to a drifting wraith, unbuttoning his fine silk collar in a blatant invitation. The creature slipped through him in a curl of black mist, and he staggered, gasping, as if the darkness had caressed him somewhere very private indeed. Unfazed, he followed, tugging at the rest of his buttons with optimistic zeal.

Servants glided between tables, dousing a few of the floating lights to lend greater privacy (or maybe encouragement) to the unfolding scenes. Shadows revealed flashes of bare skin, plush silks pooled on the floor, and the sweet music morphing into low hums of desire. I swallowed hard, determined to keep my composure and not let Kazimir see how rattled I was, or how curious.

“Your court is… energetic,” I managed.

He gave a lazy shrug. “Wait until Midwinter. Then it gets truly depraved.” His eyes danced with mischief. “Does it offend your delicate sensibilities, my lady?”

I shook my head, feigning a casual indifference I couldn’t entirely feel. But I’d rather choke on my own tongue than let him see me flustered. My encounters had been furtive fumblingscompared to this open indulgence. But it wasn’t complete ignorance that made me uncomfortable—it was the sheer openness of it all. The unapologetic way these people took what they wanted, consequences be damned.

A small, rebellious part of me wondered what such freedom felt like.

Across the hall, a woman stared at me with open hostility, her fingers tracing the ornate dagger at her waist. There could only be one reason why I already had an enemy. “I suppose everyone at your court wants to sleep with you?”

“Not everyone.” Kazimir’s gaze slid pointedly to me before he followed my line of sight. “Ah. Viscountess Morana. She oversees Arvoryn Pass, between Solandris and my domain.” His eyes shifted back to me, darkly amused.

I hid my unease behind another sip. The delicious burn of the wine spread through my chest and into my cheeks. “She appears territorial. You two have a history?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking if I’ve bedded her?”

My pulse gave an irritating little jump. “You’re free to consort with whomever you like, Lord Blackrose,” I said, my voice airy and false. “I’m merely wondering if she’s going to hurl that dagger at my face.”

Kazimir almost smirked. “She wouldn’t dare. And no. We don’tconsort. Not anymore.”

I took another sip of wine, abruptly aware that my gown felt unbearably hot.

He glanced at my goblet. “Careful. That vintage will sneak up on you.”

I smiled my courtliest smile and swept my gaze over the revelers. “You’re not telling anyone else to be careful.”

The casual look of indifference he gave me was as fake as my smile. “True. The difference is that I won’t have to carry any of them out of here when they overindulge.”

I set down my goblet with a sharp click. Kazimir exuded smugness so thoroughly that it made my skin itch. I longed to hurl the wine in his face, though the sight of it trickling down his collar might have been more distracting than punishing.

---