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SHOW HER THE WORKPLACE HAZARDS (JEALOUS EX INCLUDED)

KAZIMIR

“Is this entirely necessary?” Arabella asked as we approached the narrow lightning bridge to the Portal Isle. “You have personal portals. We could simply?—”

“The personal portals are for emergencies,” I explained, stepping toward the bridge’s edge. In the predawn gloom, the glow of the lightning bridge blotted out everything else. “They drain too much power to use casually.”

She ignored my offered hand—of course she did—and walked onto the bridge herself, cloak billowing behind her to reveal her training leathers.

They hugged her in all the right places, a fact I continued to note with no small amount of satisfaction.

I’d known the moment she chose them she meant to irritate Morana.

I appreciated that level of calculated spite.

“Besides,” I continued, catching up to her in a few strides, “Portal Isle has permanent gates that require minimal maintenance.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “How disappointingly sensible.”

I shrugged. “I save the extravagant displays for special occasions.”

“Like kidnapping?” she shot back, a mischievous edge to her voice.

The corner of my mouth tugged upward. “You were being… spirited.”

“I was trying to kill you.”

I tapped the spot on my throat where she’d pressed that blade in our initial scuffle. “I’ve developed a nice scar. I rather like it.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite suppress her smile. The wind battered her hair across her face, and she shoved it back with a huff.

We’d moved past the aphrodisiac incident a few days ago, though she’d made it absolutely clear I was not forgiven.

Arabella had cornered me at breakfast the next morning to deliver a comprehensive dissertation on trust and respect, during which I’d maintained my most remorseful expression while secretly admiring her command of creative insults.

At the far edge of the bridge, the Portal Isle shimmered into view—a perfect circle of stone, dotted with seven ancient arches, each carved with runes that pulsed at different intervals. I felt the platform’s hum beneath my boots; it was always surreal, the way magic vibrated here.

I moved to the eastern arch, letting my fingertips trail across its cool carvings.

“Each portal is keyed to a fixed destination. Some are public knowledge—the route to the markets, for instance.” I indicated the archway in front of us.

“Others remain exclusive. With all of them, only those who have the necessary tokens can pass, just like the lightning bridges.”

Arabella folded her arms over her chest. “But you and I don’t use tokens for the bridges.”

“And I don’t need them for the portals,” I replied, injecting just a hint of smugness into my voice.

She tilted her head, incredulous. “You think if I had access, I’d jump through one at random just to escape?”

“No,” I said, fighting off a smile. “You’re far too cunning for that, and if you were going to flee, you wouldn’t announce it beforehand.”

No denial came from her, only a pensive silence. Triumph flickered through me. I activated the portal with a spark of dominion magic, the archway filling with a rippling veil of shadow laced with silver.

“After you, Lady Blackrose.” I gestured with an exaggerated bow.

She eyed me warily, then squared her shoulders. “If I end up in a dungeon somewhere, I’ll make you regret it.”

A low laugh escaped me, darker than I intended. “Is that a promise? Because I can imagine some very entertaining ways for you to seek vengeance.”

She flushed at that, but didn’t look away. Her defiance made my pulse quicken. With a final glare, she stepped through the black-and-silver veil, and I followed instantly, feeling the portal’s icy pressure crush me before releasing me on the other side.

Blinking away the frost clinging to my eyelashes, I saw a clearing of ancient pines. Dawn touched the horizon, bathing everything in a pale glow. I drew a breath, my chest stinging from the abrupt change in air pressure.

Arabella stood a short distance away, clutching at a tree trunk and blinking as though the ground had wobbled under her feet. “Breathe, it helps,” I said, dusting a little frost from my sleeve. “The disorientation passes.”

She glared at me pointedly but followed my advice. Her cheeks were tinged with cold. “You could’ve warned me about that,” she said.

“And miss a chance to see you off-kilter?” I countered with mock innocence. “Never.”

I waved toward a distant ridge. “We’re at the northern edge of Arvoryn Pass. Morana’s territory lies just beyond those hills.”

Branches snapped behind me, and I turned to see Thorne stepping forward with a string of horses. “Lord Blackrose, Lady Blackrose,” he said, handing over the reins. “Compliments of Viscountess Morana.”

I almost snorted at that. Morana’s hospitality was typically laced with daggers. But as I turned to Arabella, I found her entire demeanor brightening. She reached for the reins of a sturdy bay mare, her hand gliding over the saddle’s seat.

“I insisted on no side-saddles.”

She glanced at me while she stroked the mare’s neck. “You remembered.”

I forced a casual shrug. “I prefer efficiency, that’s all.

Can’t have you breaking your neck on the way there.

” I stepped in to help Arabella mount, though she hardly needed the assistance.

My fingers lingered on her calf, pressing lightly into the supple leather.

She gasped, just barely audible, and a spark of satisfaction crackled through me in response.

“I half expected you to insist I ride with you,” she said, reins in hand.

A lazy smile spread across my face. “Is that something you’d prefer?”

“No,” she said a little too quickly. “Not at all.”

I sighed in mock regret. “Pity.”

I mounted my own horse, and we set out along a winding path through the pines. Thorne and two guards rode ahead, another pair behind, giving us a measure of privacy.

“You ride well,” I noted after a while.

Arabella stayed quiet for a breath or two. “It’s something I’ve always enjoyed.” She shot a glance at our enclosed guard detail. “Why bother with an escort? You could annihilate a militia with your magic, all by yourself.”

“The escort isn’t for me,” I said, ducking under an overhanging branch. “It’s a courtesy to Morana. She enjoys the illusion that I respect her territory enough to observe her protocols.”

Arabella snorted. “Or that you don’t overshadow her by flaunting just how powerful you really are.”

“Precisely. All power structures rest on fragile egos. Hers, mine, everyone’s.” I caught her gaze. “I’m managing them, just as I manage you.”

She gave me a sidelong look. “And who’s managing you ?”

“You’ve been doing a fine job,” I said truthfully. “My ego has never been so bruised and inflated at the same time.”

Arabella murmured a low, noncommittal sound, but a ghost of a smile crossed her face.

Soon enough, the forest gave way to open highlands.

The morning sun crept higher, lighting up the rolling hills dotted with standing stones.

Jagged mountains guarded the horizon. Arabella’s face turned toward the sunlight, her posture relaxing—no doubt enjoying her first taste of freedom from the citadel.

“You’re staring,” she said without turning.

I didn’t bother to deny it. “Just making sure you’re not foolishly planning to run.”

She finally glanced my way, an amused gleam in her eye. “You already pointed out I wouldn’t risk it. So, obviously, you’re enjoying the view.”

I let the moment stretch, savoring her self-assured challenge. “Maybe I am.”

We rode for a while in comfortable silence, with Arabella still drinking in the view. Finally, she looked at me. “I know Skyspire isn’t the extent of your domain, but how much of this is yours?”

“My territories extend from the eastern sea to these highlands, north to the mountains, and south to the desert.”

“All conquered?”

“Some conquered. Some negotiated.” I adjusted my reins. “Some inherited.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Inherited from your family?”

The mention of my family sent a familiar surge of cold rage through my veins. “In a manner of speaking. My father didn’t part with his lands willingly.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes. “You killed him.”

“At seventeen,” I confirmed. “He was reaching for his wine glass when I severed his head from his shoulders. The rest of the table sat in stunned silence for three full seconds before the screaming started.”

Her horse shifted beneath her as she studied me. “There’s more to that story.”

“There always is.” I nudged my horse forward, ending that particular line of conversation.

We crested a hill that overlooked the blackened ruin of what had once been a village. Charred beams jutted from the rubble, and only a sad, half-collapsed well stood in the center. I reined in my horse, feeling Arabella stiffen beside me.

“A week ago, it held forty-seven people,” I said quietly. “Farmers, mostly.”

She dismounted and walked through the remains of the village. When she returned, her expression was colder and more resolute than I had ever seen it. “And Solandris did nothing?”

“From what I hear, their patrols retreated months ago.”

She swallowed hard, then climbed back onto her mare.

We arrived at Arvoryn Manor about an hour later. Unlike my citadel, it was all sharp angles and fortress walls rooted in the mountainside—functional and intimidating. Arabella pulled her shoulders back.

“Nervous?” I couldn’t resist asking.

She squared her jaw. “I’m not afraid of Morana.”

“Good.” I nodded toward the gates. “Because here she comes, and she’s wearing her stabbing corset.”

Morana marched out to greet us, clad in practical black leathers that showed zero interest in subtlety. Two gleaming daggers hung at her hips. Her husband, Edmund, scurried in her wake, wide-eyed as usual.

“Kazimir,” Morana greeted me. “How kind of you to grace us with your presence.”

“Morana,” I replied, dismounting. Then I turned to help Arabella, only to find her already sliding neatly from the saddle.

Morana’s sharp gaze landed on Arabella, and I didn’t miss the way her mouth tightened at the sight of my wife in those leathers, which made her look distinctly more forbidding than she had at the wedding.

“Lady Blackrose,” Morana said, voice measured. “Welcome to Arvoryn Manor.”

Arabella gave a curtsy that managed to appear both graceful and defiant, which was quite a feat. “Viscountess. Thank you for hosting us.”

Morana narrowed her eyes but forced a smile. “Lunch awaits. Follow me, and we’ll see about getting you settled first.”

I leaned in toward Arabella, dropping my voice so no one else would hear. “Don’t eat or drink anything until I say it’s safe.” Then we trailed after Morana and her entourage. It would be a very interesting day indeed.