Page 47 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

I stood at the base of my tower like some overeager suitor, a sharp breeze tugging at my cloak. Several days had passed since Arabella had set me on fire. Since then, I’d commissioned a new tunic made from fire-retardant fabric (the tailor’s barely restrained eye-roll when I requested that modification still annoyed me). In the interim, my wife and I managed two more sessions, lighter on flames but heavier on the tension that lingered between us.

Outside those training hours, though, I barely saw her. My sources—Vex, with her wry reports, and Pip, who babbled anxiously—kept me informed that Lady Blackrose roamed the citadel with what appeared to be genuine curiosity.

I knew full well she wasn’t attempting an escape. If she were, I’d have caught a whiff of half-baked schemes or sudden inquiries about the wards. Besides, she had no father’s estate worth returning to, no friends I knew who would—or could—hide her, and she showed too much genuine excitement during training.

Now, however, the practical side of me saw the potential for mishaps, and a guided tour seemed… prudent. I’d sent word an hour ago with firm instructions:Dress as a dark lady, wear a cloak, and meet me outside my tower.No explanation.

But when Arabella appeared at the bottom of the winding stair, I had to force myself not to stare. She wore a hooded cloak over a dark velvet gown that clung to her in ways that made me regret our agreement all over again. Aside from the wedding ring forged of my bone, she wore no jewelry, which made it all the more striking.

“Lord Blackrose,” she greeted, adjusting the hood so it pooled against her shoulders.

“Kazimir,” I corrected with mild emphasis, watching for her inevitable eye roll. She obliged, if somewhat halfheartedly.

She smoothed a velvet sleeve. “You said to dress as a dark lady and wear a cloak. Don’t blame me if it’s darker than you intended.”

“It suits you,” I said, holding out my arm. “Come along, then. Time for a tour.”

She took my arm but shot me a suspicious look. “A tour of the citadel? How unexpectedly considerate.”

“Would you like to inspect our dungeons first?” I asked. “We could start with the darkest cell, if that feels more traditionally villainous.”

She almost smiled. “Lead on, my lord.”

I guided her onto the broad stone walkway leading from the tower. Beneath us, clouds drifted in and out of view. If she felt uneasy about the dizzying drop, she concealed it well, though her fingers tightened slightly on my arm.

“You promised me more freedom,” she said as the wind whipped a lock of hair out of her braid. “So I’ve been familiarizing myself with your fortress.”

“Yes, I know.”

She shot me a mild glare. “No one issupposedto be spying on me.”

“They’re not,” I said confidently. “But this is my citadel, and I hear about anything notable that happens within it.”

She sighed, conceding the point. “I’m not trying to escape, if that’s what worries you.”

I dipped my head in acknowledgment, remembering all the ways I’d verified that truth. “I believe you. Though there are certain places you should avoid unless you’d like a face full of serpents or illusions. The North Tower is one of those places. Several minions lost fingers in the aftermath of Griffin’s last incident.”

She paused to brush the hair out of her face. “You do realize forbidding something only makes it more tempting?”

I shrugged. “Go ahead, then. When you’re screaming from a barrel of snakes, I won’t come rescue you.”

She scoffed, then flashed me a wicked grin. “Perhaps the snakes are the ones who’d need rescuing.”

I resisted the urge to laugh. “Fair enough.”

We reached a place that overlooked the central courtyard. “Welcome to the Inner Sanctum proper,” I announced. Five spired towers stood equidistant from each other in a vast star formation, connected to one another by a strong outer wall. I pointed them out in turn: “Our tower in the west, the Observatory in the southwest, where you’ve already caused mischief?—”

“I wasn’t going to tell you about that.”

“Griffin always caves. He can never keep a secret from me. And now you, apparently.”

Arabella sniffed, only half-repentant, before I continued pointing out the remaining towers. “Gate tower in the southeast, the Heirloom’s tower in the east, and the northern labs you should steer clear of. The courtyard here anchors the wards.”

She eyed the massive pentagram carved into the black stone. “A giant pentagram inside a villain’s fortress—subtle.”

“The fortress predates me,” I said with a shrug. “Though I’ve taken creative liberties to fit my purposes. Functionally, the structure is almost impossible to breach, and that’s before all sorts of nasty ward-work I’ve planted into the foundation.”

She turned her gaze to the distant isles suspended in clouds. “And this is only the main fortress, right?”

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