Page 44 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

My heart hammered, though I kept my tone casual. “My father didn’t want me studying anything beyond healing. I learned bits and pieces in secret, from stolen books.”

Kazimir slowly circled behind me. I fought the urge to pivot with him. “Why did your father object?” he murmured.

My pulse fluttered. “He believed destructive magic was beneath a lady’s dignity. That I was meant to nurture, not harm. He wanted a sweet, docile daughter.”

Kazimir appeared in front of me again, eyes flashing with curiosity. “Yet you developed a reputation for clumsiness and chaos. Surely that wasn’t all by accident.”

“Sometimes I tested my boundaries,” I admitted, remembering illusions I’d cast on unsuspecting guards, or jewelry I’d enchanted to flicker. “But mostly, I was locked in a tower. A girl’s got to keep herself occupied, right? Healing’s useful, but it doesn’t stitch up the part of me that wants… more.”

He paused, letting me see the faint shift in his expression—a flicker of understanding, or maybe anger on my behalf. Then he stepped closer, so close our breath mingled. “What if you could control both healing and destruction?”

A jolt of longing tugged at me. “I suppose I’d find out who I really am.”

He inclined his head. “You can’t grow if you’re too afraid to confront the potential darkness as well as your light.”

Something tugged in my chest at his words. No one had ever embraced my magic the way he did, even if he dangled it like bait to keep me under his thumb. It was heady, and far too thrilling.

“So,” I forced a teasing note. “Do we start by tossing around shadow-bolts? Or maybe reanimating an undead horde to do your tedious chores?”

He allowed a small chuckle. “We’ll begin with fundamentals. Then we’ll see how bold you and your power truly are.”

I exhaled. He wanted me to peel off my father’s limiting expectations and embrace something new and dangerous? Fine. I could handle a little moral dubiousness.

I squared my shoulders. “All right, Lord Blackrose, let’s see what I’m made of.”

21

DUCK AND COVER (WHEN MAGIC BACKFIRES)

KAZIMIR

Arabella stepped into the focus circle, her shoulders squared like a soldier preparing for battle. Even untrained, her magic rippled across the chamber, scattering the energies I’d spent the morning methodically calibrating.

I moved closer, forcing my frustration into a measured tone. “Let’s begin with something simple.”

“Define ‘simple.’”

“Simpler than healing a shredded hand,” I replied, giving her a pointed look. “According to Pip, you managed that without breaking a sweat.”

A faint blush tinted her cheeks. “That was different. Healing comes naturally.”

“All magic should come naturally,” I said, conjuring a small orb of shadow that hovered over my palm. “It’s about intent and will. Visualize what you want, then channel your energy to make it real. Simple.”

She eyed the dark orb as though it might sprout teeth and lunge at her. “What exactly am I supposed to visualize?”

“Light.” I closed my fist around the shadows, snuffing them out. “Your healing talent suggests you’re good at channeling positive energy, so we’ll start there before you try anything more… destructive.”

“Light. That sounds straightforward enough.” She lifted her hand.

“Hold out your palm,” I instructed, “and imagine a tiny sun forming above it. Summon the warmth, picture the glow, and feed that glow with the magic inside you.”

I remembered how she’d defended herself with raw magic on the road. I wanted to see whether she could do something similar under controlled conditions.

Arabella extended her hand, fingers slightly curled. Her brow furrowed as she concentrated, her gaze fixed on the empty space above her skin. For a few moments, all she created was silence.

“Relax,” I suggested. She practically vibrated with tension. “It’s like taming a wild creature. You gain its trust first, then direct it.”

Her lips tugged into a reluctant smirk. “So now my magic is some unpredictable beast?”

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