Page 3 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

“And if Lady Arabella… resists marriage?” Sims persisted.

I fought the urge to pull my shirt away from the burning scars on my forearm. “I’ve broken far stronger wills than that of a sheltered noble. All I need is her vow.”

From her spot, Vex asked slyly, “Not planning on consummation?”

I glared. “The artifact doesn’t require it. Words suffice.” I turned to the mirror again, dropping the silence that cloaked it. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

The mirror rippled, beginning to speak, “In theory, the artifact might?—”

Shadows snaked back over it with a snarl from me. “I only need vows,” I said, ignoring the mirror’s muffled squawking. “There’s a difference between compelling someone to go through a ceremony and forcing my way into her bed.”

Vex murmured, “How chivalrous.”

I cast a pointed look at Vex, daring her to argue further. She merely lifted a brow.

“We’re done here,” I said, turning to the others. “Sims, prepare the Great Hall for a wedding. Vex, find me whatever legal documents we need and prepare invites. This wedding must be official. Thorne, you handle the guards. Griffin, get my runes ready for infiltration into Solandris.”

They bustled into action, but Griffin hesitated. “Should we… prepare a welcome gift? Some, uh, token to soften the transition?”

I shot him a flat glare. “Griffin, I’m kidnapping a noblewoman. I doubt she’ll appreciate a fruit basket.”

He squirmed. “But first impressions…”

My eyes flicked again to her sketch. That ghost of a smirk still had me off-balance. “Fine. Send roses. Whatever number you deem appropriate for an abducted fiancée.”

Thunder rolled outside the citadel, and lightning illuminated the war room’s vaulted ceiling. I turned to the window, watching the sky crack open in a violent storm.

Sims spoke softly, pulling me back. “Your orders for the infiltration, my lord?”

I turned, feeling a rush of anticipation burn in my veins. “I’ll do it myself. I refuse to risk one of you idiots confusing her with an interchangeable Violet.” I leveled Griffin with a pointed glare. “Or Lord Sebastian and his scones.”

Griffin shrugged helplessly. “To be fair, they are excellent sco?—”

“Don’t test me,” I snarled, letting the shadows flicker menacingly. “You have your orders. And for the love of all that’s dark, someone get me a cloak that says ‘villain.’ I want to look as dramatic as my reputation demands.”

Griffin, trying too hard, added, “Do we also need a kidnapping net?”

My shadows clamped around his collar, lifting him an inch off the floor. “We are not using anet.”

“Yes, my lord,” he choked out.

“Get to work,” I snapped, releasing him. They scattered, leaving me alone with the echoing thunder and that dreadful mirror. I walked toward the Heirloom, letting my fingertips glide across the cool metal. All that power was just waiting to be claimed, and ironically, it hinged on an absurdly traditional practice: a wedding with a woman who (if the rumors were true) might roast me alive by ‘accident’ before I even said “I do.”

Hm. I would need to ward Lady Evenfall’s rooms against fire, just in case.

Lightning cracked outside. I strode from the war room with a grin that would have sent my enemies running for cover. I had a lady to kidnap, a wedding to prepare, and an artifact of unimaginable power to claim.

Just another day in the life of The Dark Lord.

2

MAKE A DRAMATIC ENTRANCE (AND TRY NOT TO STARE)

ARABELLA

I clenched Father’s letter until the parchment bit into my palm. Outside, the Golden Rose Fields of Solandris blazed in the sunlight, but I hardly saw them. Father’s neat, imperious script held my attention:

Prepare for visitors, as I shall be arriving in three days’ time with someone who has expressed a keen interest in securing an alliance with our house.

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