Page 8 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating

“Nothing about this could be pleasant,” she snapped.

I released her. “I’m beginning to see why your father wanted you contained.” I summoned a guard, and one of the more thick-headed recruits ventured in. “Are Lady Evenfall’s chambers ready?”

“Yes, my lord,” the guard said, eyes nowhere near me. He stared at Arabella, blatantly taking in her damp silhouette.

Jealous fury roared up in me, so immediate and powerful that it surprised me. My dominion magic surged outward. The guard slammed against the wall. A mirror shattered, sending shards across the floor. I let the fool choke for a long beat, until his face purpled in panic.

Arabella’s expression turned wary, though not quite terror-filled. If anything, it looked like confusion, and something faintly reminiscent of twisted curiosity.

Without taking my eyes off her, I called for Vex, who was already emerging from the shadows. “Take Lady Evenfall to her chambers,” I ordered. With a glance at the guard, I untied my cloak and tossed it around Arabella’s shoulders. “Make sure she has everything she needs. I won’t have my future bride drop dead of hypothermia before the vows.”

Arabella gave me a long, measured look that might have bordered on pity. “You’re going to regret choosing me,” she said quietly, as though giving me a chance to back out.

My response was to pick up my discarded dagger and hold it tight by my side. “Let’s clarify something,” I snapped. “You can kick and scream, but you’re mine until the ceremony is done.”

She tilted her head. “And once it’s over?”

I shoved down the odd flicker of unease. “That depends entirely on your cooperation.”

Color rose in her cheeks, but she said nothing more. She only turned when Vex ushered her to the door, sparing one last look at the guard who still dangled in midair, gagging for breath.

When she was gone, I focused my attention on the unfortunate man. “You’re new, aren’t you?” I asked, letting him draw a ragged breath by relaxing the magic just a fraction. The smell of fear radiated off him.

He nodded frantically.

“Let me explain something very clearly.” My runes throbbed in my bones, fueling my anger. “Lady Evenfall is dangerous. She is valuable. And she is mine. Understand?”

He nodded again, tears spilling down his face. I dropped him without ceremony, and he collapsed at my feet.

“Thorne!” I called. He appeared with unsettling promptness. “Take this idiot to the dungeons and teach him some manners. Start with Step Seventeen of the torture manual—the one with the spoons.”

Thorne dragged the trembling guard away.

Alone at last, I turned to the tall windows. Storm clouds churned in the distance, black and roiling. I placed my hand against the glass, feeling the runes carved into my bones pulse in time with my heartbeat, leaving behind an ache that was half anger, half anticipation.

Threats hadn’t cracked her. Perhaps torture would eventually work, but it would take more time than I cared to waste. If I wanted this wedding to go off without a catastrophic level of rebellion, I needed something beyond sheer intimidation… some leverage she couldn’t shrug off. Except I hadn’t the faintest clue what that leverage might be, and I hated that uncertainty even more than the stinging of my runes.

But some foolish, restless part of me felt more intrigued than I had in years.

Damn it all. If this was how matchmaking worked, no wonder people said love was more treacherous than war.

5

NEGOTIATE WITH A VILLAIN (TERMS & CONDITIONS APPLY)

ARABELLA

The shadow restraints vanished once we left Kazimir’s study. Practical villains conserved magic when muscle would suffice. Vex held my arm firmly as we wound through the Dark Lord’s fortress. Her grip suggested she could break bones as effortlessly as lighting a candle.

Cold now in my damp dress, I tugged the cloak closer around my shoulders, scowling at how it smelled so distinctly of him: winter storms and steel, undercut by the smoky tang of charred wood.

I felt a tiny spark of satisfaction remembering how Kazimir had flung that guard into the wall. My father had never once defended me from leering eyes, so I found it disturbingly pleasant to witness someone take actual offense on my behalf. Even if it was the Dark Lord. Even if I was still trying to figure out whether his anger had been about the guard’s stare or something else entirely.

We reached a corridor lit by floating orbs of pale blue light. I glanced at a large mirror on the wall as we passed. My hair hung in half-fallen braids, dust and smudges darkening my cheeks.I looked every bit the frazzled heroine from a tragic ballad, bartered away to a monster for a handful of goats.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” I asked after several minutes of wordless trudging.

“The lord’s private tower,” Vex replied impassively.

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