Page 4 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

Another suitor. Another performance forfamily honor. I crumpled the letter and let it fall onto the carriage seat.

“My lady?” Agnes, my lady-in-waiting, peered over her embroidery. “You look upset.”

“I’m…” I swallowed my annoyance and pasted on a polite smile. “I was hoping for three months of peace. But apparently, Father’s decided otherwise. I can practically hear his threats about locking me in the tower if I ruin another betrothal.”

Agnes’s fingers stilled around her needle. “I’m sorry. Another match, so soon after?—”

“Lord?Perris?” I cut in, grinning. “He deserved worse than a singed cravat.”

Agnes snorted, then coughed to hide it. I gave a humorless laugh. “Just when I think I’m free of Father’s meddling, he springs a fresh candidate on me. Maybe the next suitor will spontaneously combust.”

The carriage lurched as we left the gilded shimmer of the Golden Rose Fields for the shadowed throat of the Whispering Wood. Branches knitted overhead, choking the light. We covered nearly two hours of muddy miles, long enough for Agnes to finish an entire spray of roses on her hoop, before the wood stopped whispering and simply… listened. No birdsong. No wind. Only a hush so thick it pressed on my ears.

I leaned closer to the window. “Agnes,” I murmured, “do not panic.”

“Wolves?” She went pale.

“I wish it were,” I muttered. A prickle crept along my spine, magic wrong and heavy. “Driver!” I shouted. “Faster!”

The horses broke into a run just as thunder boomed overhead. One moment the canopy flickered with dappled sunlight, the next roiling clouds tore across the sky, turning day into instant twilight. Sleet-cold rain hammered the roof. The trees blurred in the downpour, but I caught a flicker of movement along the forest edge. Men, not beasts.

“Shit.” The carriage fishtailed. The horses screamed, then stopped altogether.

“Stay down!” I shoved Agnes to the floor as the door tore open. Instinct kicked in, and I flipped healing magic inside out, slamming it into the intruder’s chest. He staggered, gasping.

“Agnes, run!” I leapt into the deluge, my summer dress instantly plastering to my skin. She managed two steps before masked figures grabbed her.

They swarmed the road, clad in black and armed to the teeth. The air plunged past winter-cold, every raindrop flashing to needles around us. The pressure of pure, crackling sorcery rolledover the muddy track, making my bones hum. Shadows bled out of the tree line, coiling together until they sculpted a man-shaped storm. Runes of liquid silver crawled over the onyx fall of his cloak, and rain flowed over his broad shoulders, revealing lean, predatory lines built for ruin. He took one deliberate step forward, and the forest itself seemed to kneel, its branches bowing and the wind holding its breath, while his dark gaze locked on me.

Oh, I thought distantly.Oh no.

I knew that face. Everyone knew that face, though few had seen it up close and lived to tell the tale. Kazimir Blackrose, the Dark Lord himself. Sworn enemy of… well, everybody, but especially Solandris. Rumor claimed he could turn entire armies to ash before breakfast. His dark eyes slid over me, lingering on the soaked dress clinging to my curves. For a heartbeat he seemed so distracted he’d forgotten his own grand entrance.

“Shall I pose while you paint a picture?” I snapped.

He blinked, then offered a half-bow. “Lady?Evenfall.” His voice was deep, rich with the kind of authority that expected instant obedience. “I’ve heard you make for lively company.”

“Meaning I’ve failed to tremble appropriately in yours,” I said, stepping away from the carriage as lightning split the sky. Behind him, masked goons pinned my driver. “Bold of you to attack in daylight, Blackrose. Were all the midnight hours booked?”

“You know who I am, then.”

“Hard to miss theDark Lord,” I said. “We can skip the pleasantries if you don’t mind. I have exactly zero interest in your villainous monologue.”

“Shame.” His gaze lingered on me, just as dark and arrogant as every rumor described. “I prepared an excellent one.”

Rain trickled down his angular cheekbones. Silver magic shimmered in his eyes. For one deranged second, I understoodwhy half the realm whispered about his mesmerizing presence. Then I remembered he had Agnes cornered and was definitely not here for tea.

My mind ran through all the lurid tales whispered about the Dark Lord, stories of eaten souls and blood-filled baths. “You miscalculated if you think my father will pay any ransom for me.”

“Your father,” he said with a snort, “would sooner send a thank-you note for taking you off his hands.”

I kept my tone bored despite the panic in my chest. “All right, Blackrose, what is it? Did my carriage splash mud on your favorite cloak?”

“I need a wife.”

My brain stuttered. Water dripped into my lashes as I stared. “You’re joking.”

He flicked his cloak back with a theatrical swirl, revealing a dagger at his hip. Thunder rumbled behind him. “I conjured a storm to intercept your carriage. Does that strike you as a joke?”

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