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GOLF WITH THE EYEBALLS OF YOUR ENEMIES (BONDING THROUGH SADISM)

KAZIMIR

The wind whipped around me as I stood at the edge of the western parapet, my grip so tight on the club that the leather handle creaked.

Six weeks. Six fucking weeks of lying beside Arabella every night with nothing but fabric and feathers between us.

Six weeks of waking hard and aching, forced to slip away before she noticed the effect she had on me.

I wanted her beneath me, above me, against every surface of my fortress.

Yet every night, I honored our agreement like some honorable knight from a fairy tale.

The restraint was costing me—nights spent pacing the study rather than returning to our chambers, cold baths at ungodly hours, and the maddening awareness that she wanted me, as well, but was too stubborn to give in.

Behind me, Sims cleared his throat with practiced politeness. “Your turn, my lord,” he said, and I detected the faintest thread of impatience in his tone.

I didn’t bother looking at him. Instead, I swung my club a few times with slow deliberation, measuring the angle. In front of me, perched on a little wooden tee, was a fresh eyeball from yesterday’s would-be assassin. Viscera still clung to it. It was repulsive—and utterly fitting for my mood.

“Anytime before the next solstice, perhaps,” Griffin muttered. He was loud enough to be heard, quiet enough that he was clearly testing my patience.

Shadows curled at my fingertips. I whirled. “Griffin, if you’d prefer a field trip to the dungeons, I can arrange that. I’m told the rats are feeling peckish.”

He paled, dipping his head. We’d sent three servants down there this week for trifling offenses. The rest of the staff had smartly adopted a strategy of cowering and tiptoeing. “Apologies, my lord,” Griffin said. “I’m simply... eager to see your legendary skill.”

I turned back to the eyeball, satisfied by his contrite tone. “Then watch,” I said.

Leaning into the swing, I channeled a surge of dominion magic into the strike.

The eyeball made a fantastic squelch and soared through the air.

A single pulse of shadow adjusted its trajectory mid-flight, ensuring it splattered graphically against a distant rock formation on a floating island—visible proof of my skill, even from here.

Vex, leaning against the parapet, offered a wry nod. “Well done, my lord. Though I doubt we can reuse that one.”

I flicked off a bit of gore from the club. “Sacrifices must be made. Speaking of which, has Lady Blackrose finally emerged from the stables, or is she still doting on that overgrown lizard I was fool enough to give her?”

Vex and Griffin exchanged a look that made me want to fling them both from the parapet. “Well?” I prompted irritably.

“Lady Blackrose spent her morning in the library,” Vex said, “researching dragon husbandry.”

“How riveting,” I replied. My jaw tightened without my permission. “I’m thrilled she’s occupied while the fate of this fortress hangs in the balance.”

Sims stepped up to take his shot, eyeball in place. He swung so poorly that it tumbled straight into the swirling clouds. “To the abyss with that one,” he muttered.

Griffin clasped his hands behind his back. “That’s four eye casualties today, Sims.”

Vex straightened, posture all business. “Continuing where we left off: No word yet from our agents in Solandris about Lord Evenfall’s plans. He’s keeping his dealings very quiet.”

My grip on the club tightened, the mere mention of Arabella’s father curdling my mood further. “What about the mercenary recruitment, then?”

“No solid leads. He’s approached at least three companies this past week, but we can’t track them all,” Vex admitted.

Griffin picked up the next eyeball, rolling it in his palm with forced casualness. “He’s not actually trying to mount a direct assault on a floating fortress, is he? That’d be suicidal.”

“Indeed,” I said, thinking how the Heirloom’s stasis complicated everything. “But Evenfall is desperate, and desperation can drive a fool to unimaginable risks.”

Sims consulted a small notebook. “His coffers have been empty for years. His only decent asset was?—”

“His daughter,” I finished flatly, a stark fury worming into my mind. “Who’s now of no use to him because she belongs to me.”

Griffin set his eyeball on the tee, lined up, and— thump . The organ soared, dropping neatly onto a mid-range island. He crowed with triumph. “That puts me ahead by two!”

“Temporarily,” I warned him, though my mind was elsewhere. “It’s curious, isn’t it? Evenfall acts as though he expects me to simply hand over both his daughter and a fortune, despite knowing full well who I am.”

“Perhaps he’s counting on your well-known mercy and generosity,” Vex suggested, her tone so dry it could have parched the Ashen Wastes.

I snorted. “That must be it—my reputation for compassion precedes me.” I stepped up to the tee. “Perhaps I should send him a gift basket full of severed fingers.”

“ Did you send a response?” Griffin asked, handing me another eyeball.

“I debated removing his courier’s head as a token,” I said, “but that seemed too polite. So I offered a different message.”

Sims hesitated as he jotted it all down. “Which was?”

“That if Evenfall persists in demanding his daughter’s return, I’ll consider it an open war with Skyspire. And then I recommended he partake in certain… anatomically elaborate activities while waiting for the nonexistent ransom.”

Griffin grimaced. “Very diplomatic, my lord.”

“Some traditions must be maintained,” I said, channeling my irritation into a second shot. I examined the eyeball, which had an unusual golden fleck in the iris. “This one looks familiar.”

“It should,” Vex said with a grim smile. “That’s all that remains of the guard who couldn’t keep his eyes to himself when Lady Blackrose first arrived.”

The eye squished slightly as my anger flared, hot and possessive. I forced myself to relax before I ruined a perfectly good projectile.

Sims sniffed. “He should have known better than to ogle the boss’s wife.”

“He made his choice,” I said, placing the eyeball on the peg. My swing was vicious. I watched with satisfaction as it arced through the air, then gave it a subtle magical nudge so it landed precisely in the courtyard below. It was followed by a spectacular chorus of cursing.

“That’s Thorne,” Griffin announced, peering over. “You’ve got superb aim, my lord.”

“If only he’d joined us instead of ‘inspecting the new recruits’, he might have avoided such misfortune.”

The sound of rapid footsteps drew our attention to the stairway. A moment later, Arabella emerged, looking irritated. Nyx bounded after her, emitting little chirps.

“Lady Blackrose,” I said, all smooth courtesy. “We’re in the midst of a... recreational session.”

Her gaze moved from my face to the gore-smeared club in my hand, then to the table of eyeballs. “You’re playing some horrific version of golf?”

Griffin offered a bright grin. “Indeed! Care to join?”

She stiffened, flicking a nervous glance at Griffin. Something in her expression warned me she’d prefer not to speak freely in front of him. “I need to speak with you,” she insisted. “Privately.”

I raised the club as if I might continue. “Surely it can wait until I’ve trounced Griffin.”

“It can’t,” she pressed, stepping forward to snare my full attention. Her voice dropped. “Please.”

Her “please” disarmed me. Arabella rarely begged, which meant it was serious. Before I could respond, Nyx lurched into a wheezing hack. We all turned, and with a final gag, the dragon retched up… something small, bloody, and disturbingly furry onto the parapet stones.

Griffin’s face whitened. “Whisper?” he croaked. “My new familiar?”

Arabella looked guilt-stricken. “I tried to stop her, but Nyx—she just?—”

“Is a dragon,” I supplied, amused by the scene. “And I suspect your precious new fox offended her palate.”

Griffin knelt, mouth slack in mingled grief and fascination. “The enchantment is gone. Months of binding effort, undone.” He sighed like a man who’d lost not just a pet, but a fraction of his soul.

Arabella knelt too, remorse twisting her features. “I’m so sorry, Griffin. I’ll replace it or make it right somehow.”

An unwelcome jolt of jealousy sparked under my ribs. “No, you won’t,” I said, the words coming out sharper than I intended. “I’ll see to Griffin’s compensation. I had the dragon brought here. Which means it’s my responsibility in the end.”

Arabella slid me a startled but grateful look. Something in my chest warmed.

Griffin stood, eyeing the soggy remains. “I... appreciate that, my lord.”

“Now,” I said briskly, “resume your turn, if you please.”

He picked out another eyeball but did so with less enthusiasm.

Arabella stared at me incredulously. “That’s it? You’re just going to continue with...”

“A team-building exercise,” Sims supplied helpfully.

A spark of curiosity flickered in Arabella’s eyes, though she tried to hide it. “It’s barbaric.”

I shrugged. “These particular eyeballs belonged to people who would have happily seen both of us dead. Consider it recycling.”

“Very sustainable villainy,” Vex added with a straight face.

Griffin made his shot, and the eyeball landed perfectly, drawing a somewhat half-hearted whoop from him. Normally, that would have infuriated me. At present, I was too focused on how Arabella’s cloak shifted to reveal the hollow at the base of her throat.

“Want to try?” I asked, offering her my club.

Arabella exhaled. “Maybe I should get Nyx back downstairs.”

I arched a brow. “Afraid you can’t match my skill? I realize not everyone has the aptitude for this game. It requires a certain finesse.”

She stiffened, hazel eyes sparking. “Give me that club.”

I passed it to her. “The secret to a perfect shot is in the follow-through”—I leaned in—”and a bit of control.”

She set the eyeball on the tee, eyes flicking across the fortress before gesturing at the far eastern spire. “That gazebo.”

Griffin let out an incredulous laugh. “That’s a bit bold for a first attempt.”

“Go big or go home,” she said, glancing at me over her shoulder. “Isn’t that the villain way?”

I huffed. “Something like that. But don’t be offended if you miss. It takes pract?—”

She swung with lethal precision, and my jaw dropped when the eyeball sailed in a neat arc and landed dead-center on the gazebo’s rooftop. Griffin sputtered. Sims nearly swallowed his tongue. Vex just grinned.

“Impossible,” Griffin breathed.

Arabella handed me the club with a smug grin. “Apparently not.”

“You’ve done this before.” I scowled. “Did you use magic?”

Arabella shook her head. “At court, I was good at a version of this game. But they used little wooden balls, not… body parts.” A flicker of old resentment shadowed her face. “People thought I cheated then, too. But I just have good aim.”

“There you have it,” Vex said brightly. “The new champion, humiliating you on her first try, my lord.”

Ignoring Vex’s glee, I tilted my head in grudging respect. “Well played, Lady Blackrose. I’d invite you to join our gruesome little tournaments more often, unless you’re too busy with that dragon.”

Arabella’s expression softened. “I might take you up on that. Although I should probably keep Nyx from devouring more unsuspecting creatures.” She glanced over her shoulder at the broodling, who was sniffing our eyeball supply.

Sims ruined the moment by clearing his throat. “About Lord Evenfall… We were in the middle of strategy?”

Arabella’s smile faded. “What about my father?”

Her gaze locked on me, as if we were the only two there. Now, after six weeks of dancing around each other, I was starting to realize how satisfying it was that she sought answers from me, not from anyone else.

“We have reason to believe,” I began, beckoning her over to the small table where Sims’s map was spread, “that your father’s meeting with mercenary companies, to mount some ‘rescue.’ If so, it could lead to open conflict.”

She crossed her arms. “My father is unscrupulous and manipulative, but he’s not a tactician.

If he’s planning something, he’s allied with someone who is.

” She traced a finger over the Solandris capital, scowling.

“Like King Auremar. If he believes I’m an unwilling captive…

my father might persuade him to intervene. ”

Griffin exhaled. “That’d pit us against the might of Solandris.”

For an instant, my frustration flared. Arabella was supposed to be the key to bridging my vulnerability there, but our marriage remained unconsummated, while my enemies circled like vultures. “We must keep one step ahead, then, and send in more spies. I want to know if Auremar is mobilizing.”

Griffin set aside the map. “Now, if that’s settled… I do believe it’s my turn again?”

I waved him forward, letting him amuse himself. My focus snagged on Arabella, who stood mere inches away.

She murmured, half to herself, “This is going to be bad. If my father’s threatened, he’ll lash out in some cunning, despicable way.”

“We’ll be prepared.” A prickle of protectiveness thrummed in my chest.

Nyx was drooling over the eyeballs. Arabella attempted to corral her. “You, stop. Please. We’ll find you something else to chew.”

She was about to slip away, presumably to drag the dragon downstairs, but I caught her wrist. “Stay.” I wasn’t sure whether it was an order or a plea.

Arabella met my gaze—surprised, uncertain.

I seized on the first reason that sprang to mind.

“You bested me at my own game. Surely you’d enjoy seeing Griffin flounder as well? ”

Her features softened by a fraction. “One more round,” she allowed. “But then I really do have to take Nyx before?—”

I interrupted with a half-smile. “One more round,” I echoed, pressing an eyeball into her hand. My eyes dropped to her lips against my will, and I crushed the flicker of desire that stirred. She’d be mine in earnest eventually. I just hadn’t found the perfect strategy yet.

For now, I’d relish what little victory I could take: Arabella’s presence at my side, even if we were lobbing bloody eyeballs at random landmasses.

All I knew was that I wasn’t letting her go, even if I had to go to war to keep her.