Page 4

KAZIMIR

For a long moment, I stayed exactly where I was—looming over my reluctant bride-to-be as she lay splayed on the floor of my study, her limbs bound by my shadows, eyes burning with defiance. It was an arresting sight.

“Why me?” she demanded. “Of all the nobles you could’ve stolen for this twisted plan, why choose the one with a crumbling estate and a tarnished name?”

I allowed a slow, humorless smile. “Because none of the others fit my needs quite as well as you do.”

I finally turned my gaze to the crowd at the door. My staff who’d come to gawk. Sims had his hand half-raised, as if he were pondering whether to comment on the bizarre scene. I felt a surge of impatience, tempered only by my fascination with the woman struggling beneath my magic.

“Out,” I said, voice calm but layered with steel. I flicked my gaze over them, letting the runes carved into my bones hum with power.

They scattered instantly, leaving only Vex behind.

She blended near the doorway with that infuriating knack for vanishing in plain sight.

Meanwhile, I allowed Lady Evenfall to rise to her knees under my tight control, and then to stand.

A lock of her golden hair fell loose from her braids, trailing across her flushed cheek.

“Now what?” she asked, glaring up at me. “Are we discussing the ‘terms of my captivity’?”

“You’re free to call it whatever makes you feel better.

” I circled her, letting the tension build.

Create the feeling of being surrounded, and even the bravest make mistakes.

Yet this time, intrigue replaced triumph.

Maybe it was her defiance. Maybe my usual intimidation routine was wearing thin.

Or maybe part of me liked the challenge.

I stopped in front of her. “You’ll stay in the fortress until the wedding. You won’t attempt to escape or contact anyone outside. You will cooperate with the ceremony preparations. In return, I won’t make your life exceptionally miserable.”

She looked unimpressed. “Or you’ll do what? Kill me? Torture me? Lock me in a dungeon? All of the above?”

I shrugged. “They’ve crossed my mind.”

“How imaginative,” she sneered. “I expected more from a fearsome warlord.”

I took a step toward her. “Oh, I can be plenty imaginative, Lady Evenfall. Shall I demonstrate?”

“I’ve already been locked in a tower by my father,” she shot back. “The lesson never sticks.”

Her dismissal made something acidic twist in my stomach. I shoved the sentiment aside, focusing on her challenge.

“The wedding,” I said icily, “is happening. Tomorrow night.”

Her mouth fell open. “Tomorrow? Are you insane?” She sputtered, searching for words. “You can’t expect me to—to actually go through with it. You can’t force me to say vows.”

I let my voice drop to a dangerous register. “I believe I made my intentions quite clear, and I hate repeating myself.”

Anger flared in her bright eyes. “You failed to break me on the road. What makes you think you’ll succeed tomorrow?”

I resisted the urge to prove my point with a tangible show of dominion magic. “Because I have all the power in this fortress, and you have none.”

She lifted her chin in defiance, still unafraid. That brazen boldness sent a pulse of heat through my veins. I exhaled slowly, grappling for a calmer approach. “What’s it going to be, Lady Evenfall?” I asked, letting shadows coil around her wrists to keep her still.

She said nothing, so I gently turned her palms up, feigning casual curiosity. “That trick on the road—turning your healing magic into a weapon. Where did you learn that?”

“Release my hands and I’ll show you.”

I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at me. “You can fight every step, make this difficult for both of us, and still end up as my wife. Or you can accept the inevitable. I might be open to making your stay less… unpleasant, should you choose wisely.”

“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.