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REVEAL YOUR TRUE PLANS (AFTER IT’S TOO LATE)

ARABELLA

The next morning, I wandered through the fortress’s library while waiting for Kazimir.

The space felt exactly like stepping into a Dark Lord’s gothic imagination—equal parts majestic and unsettling.

Shadows loomed high under towering arches, swallowing the shelves in the gloom overhead.

The shelves themselves were carved from a wood so dark I wondered if it sprouted from cursed soil.

The smell was even stranger: old parchment, spilled ink, and something smoky that reminded me of raw magic.

A tall, ancient-looking mage in long robes shuffled past the end of the aisle for the third time, glancing in my direction as though he expected me to start ripping pages out of his precious tomes.

To be fair, that did sound like something I might do if I got desperate enough.

But so far, I’d simply tapped a finger across the spines, reading titles and trying to get a better sense of the place.

I paused at a book called The Joy of Hex . It sounded considerably more pleasant than the rest... until I flipped it open and stumbled upon an illustrated guide to ritual disembowelment. With a shudder, I slammed it shut.

“Find anything interesting?” Kazimir’s voice practically vibrated against my spine, making me drop the cursed volume back into place.

I turned to see him leaning against a ladder with far too much casual arrogance. His stormy eyes sparkled with amused challenge, reminding me uncomfortably of how he’d looked stretched across silken sheets last night—smirking, unapologetically naked, and infuriatingly aware of my reaction to him.

“Just enjoying some light scandalous reading.” I gestured to the shelf, adopting my most unimpressed tone. “You have quite a collection. Where did all these come from?”

“I inherited many of them when I took over the citadel.” He continued watching me with that mesmerizing gaze. “Stole some. Found others. Had some donated.”

I swallowed a retort about the Dark Lord receiving “donations” and looked back at the spines. “ 101 Creative Curses caught my eye.”

He nodded with mock gravity. “One of Griffin’s favorites. Though in fairness, the author’s brilliance was overshadowed by a teapot that gained sentience and exacted petty vengeance on him.”

I raised a brow. “And that’s why we don’t mess with kitchenware.”

“Precisely.” He moved closer, and his magic-laced scent—steel and charred wood—caught me off guard. “Did you sleep well, Lady Blackrose?”

The formal address seemed strange between people who’d seen each other naked, but I welcomed it. Keeping him at arm’s length was going to be the key to my sanity in this situation.

I forced a nonchalant shrug. “Like the dead,” I lied. Truthfully, my heart had hammered all night, anticipating either an attack or an accident of the pillow wall toppling over and somehow landing me in his arms. “You?”

“Oh, much the same,” he replied, far too pleased with himself.

I cleared my throat. “You mentioned you’d reveal more of your plans today?”

“I did,” he agreed, eyes flicking to my mouth. “When I make promises, I always deliver.”

“Your definitions of ‘always’ and ‘deliver’ might differ from mine.” Still, I braced for him to give some cryptic non-answer. Instead, he offered his arm in a parody of gallantry, leaning in just enough that I felt the heat of him.

“Walk with me,” he said, managing to sound charming and predatory at once. “I want to show you something that could reshape the entire realm.”

He led me from the library, and I tried not to dwell on the feel of his arm under my hand or the spark that shot up my neck whenever I inhaled that smoky tang. Servants and guards cleared our path.

“The staff seems less likely to throw themselves out the windows at your approach,” I observed, tapping my fingers against his arm.

Kazimir glanced down at my hand. “Apparently, there’s a rumor circulating that you’ve negotiated better treatment for them. Something about actual meal breaks and not being fed to the void beasts for minor infractions.”

“How tragic for your reputation.” I failed to hide my smile.

“Indeed.” He gestured me through a door ahead of him, making sure to close it after. “Next thing you know, they’ll expect birthday celebrations and reasonable working hours.”

“And to clarify, that’s a joke because they don’t already get those things.”

Kazimir shot me a dark look, but I merely smiled sweetly in response. “So where are we going?”

“You insisted on honesty, so I’m taking you to see the Heirloom of Dominion. Think of this as me indulging your unwise curiosity.”

“So what exactly is this Heirloom of Dominion? Besides something that apparently required you to kidnap and marry me.”

We rounded a corner where two guards stood sentry, their postures stiffening as we approached.

These looked as if they might faint if Kazimir so much as sneezed in their direction.

He greeted them with a disinterested nod, then pressed his hand to the heavy iron doors behind them.

Crimson runes flared under his palm, and the doors swung open with an eerie lack of sound.

“The Heirloom,” he said as we climbed the spiraling staircase beyond, “is the keystone to harnessing the realm’s ley lines. Your bloodline is crucial because the artifact requires a direct descendant of the First Hero.”

I nearly froze on the steps. The runes shimmering along the walls pulsed with each footstep, reminding me of the power thrumming in the citadel. “Ley lines… you’re talking about controlling the lifeblood of magic itself.”

“And funneling it however I wish,” Kazimir confirmed, his tone disturbingly eager. “You see the potential?”

“Potential for catastrophe,” I said bluntly. “If you reroute the currents of magic, couldn’t that destroy entire kingdoms?”

“Only for those who stand in my way.” He shrugged, as though we were discussing mild property damage. “Solandris deserves a little inconvenience. The convergence of ley lines beneath it have allowed it to build its power for centuries.”

Part of me was appalled. Another part remembered how Solandris had turned a blind eye to what my father did to me, and how much I’d resented that kingdom’s indifference. “I’m… not wholly opposed to seeing certain people sweat,” I admitted. “But there are innocents too.”

Kazimir’s face shifted, just a flicker of something that might have been respect.

“Perhaps we’ll refine the approach. Now keep going.

” He guided me up the last turn in the stairs, where a second set of doors stood.

These glowed with an even deeper crimson light.

He pressed his palm to the center, and the doors yielded to reveal a circular chamber dominated by a domed ceiling painted with rotating constellations.

At the center stood a pedestal of black marble, supporting a golden circlet. A ring of arcane symbols in the floor pulsed faintly. My instincts screamed caution. This place practically sang with power, and every hair on my arms rose in response.

Kazimir’s voice lowered. “The Heirloom of Dominion. Created by your ancestor—the First Hero. It’s attuned to your bloodline, but it requires dominion magic to guide it.”

“In other words,” I said softly, “my blood plus your villainy.”

He offered a crooked half-smile. “More or less. Will you step into the circle?”

I hesitated at the threshold, considering all the lines we’d already crossed. He could force me, but he was extending his hand like it was a dance invitation. I glanced at the circlet, a deceptively simple design with an undercurrent of raw, pulsing potential that I felt in my bones.

“What happens if I do?” I asked.

“Then we learn if all my years of plotting and your heroic lineage are enough to shape the realms.” His tone vibrated with eagerness, a boy with a shiny new toy. Except that toy could probably end civilization if we got it wrong.

I told myself to refuse. I told myself that after everything he’d done, I shouldn’t help him.

But my father’s face rose in my mind, the memory of that tower, the hypocrisy I’d witnessed in Solandris.

Maybe if I could shape how Kazimir used this artifact, I could spare a lot of people.

Or maybe I was just as power-hungry as he was, albeit less honest about it.

Drawing a steadying breath, I took Kazimir’s hand. I felt the faint shock of his touch—electric, dangerous—and walked with him into that chamber.