Page 55

MOVE THE MEETING (BECAUSE SHE ASKED NICELY)

KAZIMIR

“—and that’s when I told him, ‘It’s not necromancy if they’re still breathing when you start.’“

Griffin’s laughter ricocheted off the stone walls.

I stabbed my sausage with a fork, feeling a dull throb pound behind my eyes.

The last two days had left me gloriously drained and impressively short-tempered.

And this weekly breakfast meeting with my advisors felt closer to torture than an actual meal.

Across the table, Sims hunched over a thin obsidian tablet. His finger traced a glowing red script while his lips curved into what passed for a smile on his perpetually pessimistic face.

“What’s that?” Griffin abandoned his breakfast, practically levitating with curiosity as he peered over Sims’s shoulder. “The text is moving!”

Sims didn’t glance up from his reading. “My new Doom Scroll,” he said. “It tracks disasters, deaths, and despair across the realm, in real time. Extremely efficient.”

“Fascinating,” I muttered, jabbing another piece of sausage as if it had personally offended me.

Griffin caught my expression and nudged Sims like they were schoolboys passing notes. “Do you have those readings from the Heirloom?”

Sims put down his Doom Scroll and shuffled the papers beside his plate. “The artifact’s energy signature kept pulsing at irregular intervals through last night. Strangely, with each fluctuation, the resonance appeared to grow a bit stronger. Encouraging news, I’d say.”

I nodded absently. I didn’t need his report, since I’d spent the pre-dawn hours alone in the eastern tower, leaning over the Heirloom while fending off a splitting headache.

To my dismay, the hairline fracture had widened overnight.

My cursory search through ancient texts had provided little insight. Perhaps it was part of some metamorphosis, the artifact transforming before it reached its final form. Or maybe it was cracking because I couldn’t keep my hands off my wife long enough for the damn thing to stabilize.

I also considered the surges in magic when Arabella and I had sex. The war room incident had been wild, uncontrolled... But since then, I’d successfully channeled the more destructive bursts away from the citadel. My rune-carved bones still screamed in protest.

Worth it, though. Painfully, gloriously worth it.

Vex shot me a look over her tea that somehow managed to be both amused and judgmental. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“I woke up exactly where I intended,” I said, heat flaring through my veins at the memory of Arabella’s warm, naked body pressed against mine.

Maybe I needed to conduct a more thorough investigation—purely for research purposes—into exactly how our combined resonance affected the Heirloom during specific activities.

Or perhaps each time I buried myself inside my wife, I was destroying the very artifact I’d spent years searching for.

I pushed the thought away. I couldn’t afford to consider that every delicious, gasping moment with Arabella might be causing further damage. Not when I craved her more with each passing day.

“What of Auremar?” I asked, desperate for distraction. “Any response to our message?”

Thorne set down his knife. “Nothing yet. The enchantment confirmed delivery, but the king has gone silent. No troop movements, no diplomatic overtures.”

“He’s up to something,” I said. “Men like Auremar don’t receive severed heads without retaliation.”

Sims smoothed the edge of a parchment. “Perhaps he’s reconsidering his position.”

I shook my head. “He’s gathering forces, deciding which allies to bribe or threaten. We?—”

The dining hall door burst open so hard it nearly tore off its hinges.

All eyes snapped to Arabella as she strode in, draped in deep purple that clung to every curve I’d tasted last night.

Her golden hair cascaded loose and wild around her shoulders, and the morning light caught the gold flecks in her eyes, making them blaze with an almost supernatural intensity.

My breath caught. Last night had been transcendent. But this was something else entirely. She radiated scorching power.

“Good morning,” she announced to the room, barely acknowledging my advisors before fixing those burning eyes on me. “Teach me everything you know about dark magic.”

Griffin choked on his tea, coughing with the dramatic flair of a man being strangled. Vex’s eyebrow arched so high it nearly disappeared into her hairline. Thorne’s face remained carved from stone, but I caught the slight widening of his eyes.

I carefully set down my coffee cup, buying time as my body reacted to her command in ways entirely inappropriate for a breakfast meeting.

“That...” I cleared my throat, “might take a while.”

Arabella’s eyes narrowed dangerously, the golden flecks darkening in an approaching storm. She looked poised to unleash holy—or unholy—hell at any moment.

“When do you want to start?” I amended quickly, suddenly envisioning her looking like that while wielding shadow magic.

“Now.”

One word, delivered with such absolute certainty that it sent another bolt of pure lust straight through me. This was not the hesitant healer I’d kidnapped two months ago. This was something new—something that made my inner darkness purr with recognition.

My wife had woken up and chosen violence. And fuck me if it wasn’t the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

I searched her face for any hint of doubt or fear, but found none. Only determination, hunger, and a fierce intelligence that matched my own. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up bending the knee to her for good. The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it made my blood sing.

Perhaps this was exactly what we needed. If the Heirloom was suffering from our uncontrolled magical surges, teaching Arabella to harness her powers might stabilize everything.

“Very well,” I said, rising from my chair with the calm deliberation of a man who was willingly going to his death. “Griffin, stay on Heirloom patrol. Sims, draft responses to our allies about potential Auremar scenarios. Thorne, double the patrols along the western perimeter. Vex?—”

“I’ll handle everything else,” she said, already gathering papers with resignation. “Go corrupt your wife, and try not to raze another wing of the fortress while you’re at it.”

I ignored the jab and moved around the table to Arabella’s side. “Are you certain?” I asked quietly. “Dark magic exacts a price.”

“So does ignorance,” she replied, her voice equally low. “I’m ready to learn.”

The raw potential radiating from her promised to become either the final piece of my power… or my undoing.

I smiled. “This might be my favorite day.”

There was something undeniably arousing about watching Arabella prepare for battle.

She moved through the training room with coiled, lethal grace, stretching her limbs in the leathers I’d given her.

The material clung to every inch of her body, flaunting a lean, honed strength that had a way of setting my blood on edge.

And her eyes—gods, those eyes—glowed with a fierce purpose that made me anticipate disaster in the best possible sense.

I’d swapped out my regular tunics for plain black leathers reinforced with protective enchantments. Just in case. After all, the memory of my shirt going up in flames during our first training session remained vivid enough to put me on guard. And she’d grown exponentially more powerful since then.

Not that I’d mind if she scorched me again, so long as I got to relish that mix of horror and mischievous delight flashing across her face.

“Are you going to stare all day, or are we going to begin?” Arabella asked, her voice cutting through my thoughts.

I leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed. “Patience, my lady. Dark magic requires more than just brute force. It needs the proper mindset.”

“I’ve had the proper mindset since dawn,” she said, her smile razor-sharp. She stretched an arm across her chest. “I’m ready.”

Her enthusiasm was amusing. Dark magic wasn’t like her healing arts—clean and pure and unwaveringly selfless.

It demanded tribute. It took as much as it gave, often more.

Like inviting a starving vampire to dinner and expecting it to be satisfied with the appetizer.

Teaching Arabella to delve into that hunger.

.. I suspected it would go splendidly and perilously off-script.

I stepped away from the wall, wrestling with a flicker of caution. “Before we start, there’s something you should know.”

She paused, halfway into another stretch, watchful as a cat with its hackles up. “Go on. Unless you’ve kidnapped yet another noblewoman while I was sleeping?”

“No.” I smirked, moving closer. “Though that’s not a terrible contingency plan.”

“Because I just moved my things into your—” She caught my look and sobered a bit. “Well, I’m just saying there isn’t room for a second wife.”

“Relax, there’s only one Mrs. Blackrose at the moment,” I quipped, ignoring the treacherous flutter of contentment in my chest. I forced my expression to sober. “I’ve made the mistake of keeping critical information from you before. I won’t do that again.”

Arabella’s smile faded, but she met my gaze steadily, ready for whatever I had to say. It was a nice change, this… honesty.

“It’s about the Heirloom. I noticed a small crack yesterday.”

“A crack?” Her brow furrowed.

“I first noticed it when Griffin summoned us to the eastern tower. It’s small, barely visible, but it’s there. And it’s growing.”

“Is it my fault?” she asked immediately, her voice tight.

“No.” I reached out, unable to stop myself from tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “If anything, it’s mine. I don’t fully understand why, but our activities seem to be both powering it and potentially damaging it.”

Her eyes went wide. “When you say activities, you mean?—”

“Yes.” I let my hand drop, though I didn’t step back. “Every time we strengthen our bond, we risk destroying the very thing we need most.”

She took a step back. I could practically see the calculations running behind her eyes. The same ones that had kept me awake half the night.

“Further testing is required,” I added, flashing her a shameless smirk. “Rigorous, uninhibited research. Possibly against various surfaces. For science.”

“You waited to say this until right before you teach me destructive magic?”

“The timing seemed appropriate.” I gestured around the reinforced chamber. “Perhaps you could direct your first fireball at this problem rather than my clothing.”

To my surprise, she grinned. “That must have been difficult for you—telling me the truth. Especially about something that threatens your plans.”

I straightened. “Don’t get used to it. I still have plenty of villainous secrets.”

“I’m sure you do.” Her smile widened, and her eyes turned warm and dangerous all at once. “Show me a bit of this dark magic first. Then we can talk about how I might help with the Heirloom problem.”

Help. Not blame, not accuse, not demand. Just... help.

I raised my hand, summoning a small orb of shadow laced with a ripple of violet energy. “Dark magic doesn’t give like yours. It borrows, sometimes from the caster, sometimes from the surroundings. Even from life itself.”

Arabella leaned in to observe the shadows that swirled, flickered, and yearned toward her. She studied them unflinching, as though they were a riddle she intended to solve.

“May I touch it?”

“Not yet.” I closed my fist, dissolving the orb. “Lesson one: respect what you summon. Dark magic always wants more than you mean to give.”

Rather the same as her , I thought privately.

She absorbed my words with unguarded fascination, then tilted her chin. “I want everything: not just barriers and half-steps. I want the force you wield. I want to truly use it.”

“It won’t be easy,” I warned. “And once you begin?—”

“I can’t go back,” she finished for me, meeting my gaze dead-on. “I know , Kaz.”

“Keep saying my name like that and we’ll skip straight to the advanced lessons,” I said, stepping closer until I could feel the heat from her body. “I know enough bedroom sorcery to make last night look polite.”

I brushed my thumb along her lower spine, exactly where I’d placed that rune.

She gave a heated little smile. “Advanced lessons should wait until I master the basics, Kazimir ,” she said. “But I’m a quick study, as you well know.”

I reluctantly dropped my hand—neither of us would get anything done otherwise. My runes thrummed under my skin, alive with the same tension that fueled her. “And I suspect you’ll master this faster than anticipated. You’ve already mastered the art of driving me to distraction.”

I extended my hand, palm up, and summoned the shadows once more. This time, I let them dance across my skin, showing her how they moved, how they breathed, how they hungered.

“Now,” I said, “let me show you how to call the darkness. After all, if you’re going to be my Dark Lady, you should at least know how to make a dramatic entrance.”