Page 37 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

I thought of the roving lightning bridges, the biting black roses. Strange marvels, but marvels all the same. “I do understand what it’s like to be dismissed,” I admitted, surprising even myself.

Griffin’s gaze grew wary. “Your mother…? You mentioned her telling this story?”

My mood darkened at the memory. “She died when I was eight.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

It stung less than I expected to hear his sympathy. I ran my finger along the circlet’s smooth edge, the ghost of a spark tingling under my skin.

After she died, Father decided my only worth lay in how my bloodline could save our house from ruin, and he’d never allowed any of her stories to be told in his presence. Perhaps he never realized they might matter one day.

The circlet warmed against my skin before turning cool once more. Or perhaps, it was simply a story, and it’d felt good to tell it to people who seemed to appreciate it. Nothing more.

17

REBRAND CONQUEST AS COURTSHIP?(DATING?101)

KAZIMIR

I hurled a priceless artifact against the wall of my war room and watched with grim satisfaction as it exploded into dust. Ten years of my life, spilled out in one violent rush of frustration.

“Ten. Fucking. Years.”

I punctuated each word by smashing another item within reach. A crystal paperweight, an enchanted compass, even a skull I’d been saving for special occasions. All were sacrificed to the altar of my rage.

Ten years of trudging through ruins and crypts for clues. Ten years of poring over tomes older than dirt—texts that dissolved if I so much as breathed on them too forcefully. Ten years of wringing knowledge out of cowardly priests and stuffy scholars who’d rather die dramatically than share their library cards.

And now, the Heirloom of Dominion refused to bend to my will.

I stalked across the war room’s wreckage and stopped in front of the ornate mirror. “Explain yourself,” I growled, slamming my palm on the carved frame. Blue runes flaredbeneath my fingers, and the surface of the glass rippled as though it were a pool of water.

“My lord is displeased,” the mirror observed in a voice as flat as stale liquor. “How may this humble repository assist?”

“The Heirloom failed to activate.” I gritted my teeth and felt a fresh wave of heat ripple up my spine. “I need to know why.”

“Have you tried asking it nicely?” the mirror inquired, just a little too sly for my taste.

I stood back, scowling. “You’re a magical artifact, not a second-rate jester.”

“One adapts to one’s master,” it replied archly. The surface swam with fleeting images—dog-eared grimoire pages, diagrams of ley lines, bits of ancient script. “The Heirloom of Dominion, forged by the First Hero to harness the power of the earth’s veins. It requires a bearer of heroic blood and a user of dominion mag?—”

“I know,” I snapped, continuing to pace. Broken shards crunched underfoot. I’d destroyed half the items in the room, and I still felt no relief. “I confirmed Lady Evenfall’s lineage. The ritual components were flawless. And still… nothing.”

The mirror’s reflection stilled, darkening around the edges so it nearly swallowed my image. “Perhaps not everything was correct, my lord.”

I practically vibrated with the need to fling yet another priceless relic across the room. “Explain.”

“You performed the binding ritual and recited the words of power. You placed the Heirloom on your brow,” it said, thick with condescension. “Yet the marriage remains… incomplete.”

I paused in the act of reaching for another potential projectile. My hand twitched. “We spoke the vows. We drank from the Cup of Dominion. I sliced off a piece of my own bone for the rings. The officiant pronounced us wed.”

“Words and ceremony,” the mirror replied, tone smug. “Such primal magic requires more. Especially the kind used by the First Hero.”

I pressed my fists onto the desk, ignoring the stray bits of broken compass dragging against my knuckles. “The marriage must be consummated.”

“Indeed,” the mirror agreed, sounding far too pleased.

With a curse, I swept the maps and scrolls off the desk in a single swipe. “That’s out of the question. We have an arrangement.” My thoughts leapt to Arabella, and the steel in her gaze when she insisted on no forced intimacy. “I promised her I wouldn’t push that boundary.”

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