Page 63

INTERROGATE THE DYING EX (POISON MAKES THEM CHATTY)

KAZIMIR

I glared at the replacement oak table in the war room, silently cursing Sims for scavenging it from who-knew-where.

I would’ve preferred forging a new obsidian table, but “crafting mythical stone furnishings” had apparently slipped a few notches on my priority list. At least the debris was gone, though carpenters hammered and clanged outside, jarring my focus as I tried to plan an entire war in peace.

Arabella sat cross-legged in her chair, studying a thick tome coaxed from our dearly beloved Magister Vellum. He’d been stubborn about letting either of us near his precious library ever since we’d, ah, disrupted the atmosphere in there.

Since our confrontation in the apiary three days ago, we’d reached an uneasy truce.

We shared meals, trained together, and maintained the careful distance Griffin had prescribed.

Close enough to stabilize our bond, yet far enough to prevent another magical catastrophe.

The arrangement was... tolerable. Barely.

She glanced up as I approached, expression half exasperation and half curiosity. “The noise?” she guessed, nodding toward the thunderous pounding outside.

I tried not to look at her for too long. The Heirloom might interpret it as permission to wreak havoc. “Distracting,” I muttered. “For more reasons than I care to narrate.”

She smirked. “I’d offer to help with your focus, but that might be dangerous.”

Her sardonic tone just escalated my irritation, and my desire. “We still have a war to plan,” I said curtly, gesturing for her to keep reading. “Find me answers, and I’ll consider letting you back into the library unsupervised.”

She rolled her eyes. “As though you’re the one keeping me out in the first place.”

The doors creaked open, and Thorne entered. The noise from outside seemed to swell at his back, hammering a discordant rhythm.

“My lord,” Thorne greeted, bowing slightly. “Lady Blackrose.”

I inclined my head for him to speak, while Arabella carefully closed her book.

The half-moon shadows under her eyes betrayed long nights of reading, but she still looked infuriatingly resolute, like she’d bite anyone who suggested she rest. Despite her exhaustion, she looked alive, vibrant, and beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with conventional aesthetics and everything to do with the raw?—

Dammit. I was staring again.

Thorne cleared his throat. “We received a message from one of Morana’s guards. A Solandrian noble has been found in the pass. Poisoned, delirious, and apparently babbling about you two.”

Arabella exchanged a glance with me. I scoffed. “Morana’s being helpful again? That’s certainly suspicious.”

“Indeed,” Thorne said. “It’s unusually cooperative of the Viscountess to alert us so promptly.

Her guard delivered him to our southern outpost, if we want to question him.

The man’s identity is unknown to them, but the signet ring suggests he’s from Auremar’s court.

Vex was already there on business, and she sent word that he’s in a bad state. ”

Arabella stood from her chair. “I’ll go.”

“Not alone,” I growled.

She tensed, but nodded.

I gestured at Thorne. “We’ll meet you at the southern outpost.” I turned back to Arabella.

“Let me guess: we’re not going via the Portal Isle, are we?” she asked.

“No. I’m not taking any chances.” I smirked. “Unless you prefer scenic routes with potential traps and assassination attempts?”

She stepped around the oak table, meeting me halfway.

Even from a small distance, I felt the hum beneath my bones.

Her eyes flicked to my hand, as though expecting me to reach for her.

When I didn’t, she lifted her chin defiantly and stepped closer.

“The last time we traveled by personal portal, I was your prisoner and you were an absolute ass about it.”

The spark that had ignited whatever this disaster of feelings was between us. How much had changed since then. I’d gone from wanting to use her to wanting... well, still to use her, but in entirely different ways.

“And now?” I asked.

“You’re just looking for a reason to keep me in your arms,” she accused softly, voice laced with wry humor.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, which was a lie and we both knew it.

I drew runes in the air, the swirling energy of a portal forming at the edge of the war room.

I murmured the final word, and a vortex of violet light spun open.

“Full contact,” I reminded her, sliding my arm around her waist. “Can’t have your head end up in another part of the realm. ”

“I remember,” she muttered, but she leaned in, bracing a palm against my chest. “You do so love your excuses to manhandle me.”

In a rush of distorted air, the portal yawned wide.

We stepped through together, the world dissolving into swirling darkness before rebuilding itself around us.

The southern outpost materialized instantly—a squat fortress perched near a river bend.

Storm clouds hovered overhead, as though paying homage to my mood.

Arabella peeled away from me the moment we landed, smoothing her clothes with a quick, almost self-conscious gesture. I fought the urge to yank her back.

She scanned the fortress, then the horizon beyond, a calculating look in her eyes. The wide-open landscape stretched in all directions—no witnesses, fewer guards than the citadel, a clear path to the nearby river. I could practically see her mapping escape routes.

“Kazimir.” She turned to me, eyes narrowed slightly. “If I wanted to run, would you try to stop me?”

The directness of the question startled me, but I still considered it carefully. Once, the answer would have been simple: I’d have hunted her to the ends of the earth. Now…

“I would be... disappointed if you chose not to stay,” I finally said, watching her reaction.

A smile ghosted across her lips. “That’s not an answer.”

“Make no mistake: You’re still my wife, and I didn’t go through all this trouble just to let you walk away.”

She studied me for a moment longer, as if testing my words against her truth-sense. “Interesting. You still didn’t actually say you’d stop me.”

I sighed. “If you’re planning on leaving, then by all means.”

I stepped aside and waited. Arabella was testing me, just as I was testing her, I supposed. Would I really let her go? The uncomfortable question laid something bare in me that I shoved down and buried beneath my usual possessive arrogance.

Of course, she made no move to leave. My chest unknotted in quiet relief, though I’d never let it show.

I gestured toward the outpost. “Shall we? Or would you prefer to continue this philosophical debate while our prisoner expires?”

She studied me for a moment longer, then nodded and fell into step beside me.

We walked in silence, and within moments, were at the gate.

It was manned by my own men, and everything seemed normal.

No traps, then. But I still didn’t regret being cautious, especially because the intelligence had come from Morana.

“Where’s our would-be informant?” I demanded of the nearest guard.

The guard bowed. “Inside, my lord, but he’s not doing well. Commander Vex is with him.”

I nodded brusquely. Arabella and I entered the outpost’s main hall, where the torches guttered in the wind seeping through the old stone.

Vex stood near a makeshift infirmary corner, arms crossed.

Keen-eyed as ever, she caught Arabella’s presence and quirked an eyebrow at the space (or lack thereof) between us.

Behind her, a man slumped in a chair, wrists bound. He wore the tattered remnants of an expensive jacket. Dark lines of poison spread across his neck, creeping toward his jaw. A single glance told me he had little time.

“Perris?” Arabella demanded. “What in the seven hells are you doing here?”

The man jerked at her voice, raising milky, terrified eyes. “Lady Evenfall,” he rasped. “You must help?—”

“Her name,” I cut in coldly, “is Lady Blackrose.”

A look of sheer terror crossed his face as he realized who I was. Though I’d never seen him before, his name was familiar.

“You know him?” I asked Arabella.

“Unfortunately.” Her mouth twisted. “He tried to court me at my father’s insistence. Ambitious, but not particularly bright. He once told me women shouldn’t concern themselves with politics because our delicate constitutions couldn’t handle the strain.”

“I hope you did something fun to him.”

A wicked smile crossed her face. “I set his cravat on fire.”

Ah. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. I’d heard this story even before I’d kidnapped Arabella. It was the reason I’d originally warded her chambers against fire.

Arabella’s voice turned icy as she gazed at Perris. “So tell me, Lord Perris, why are you here?”

He swallowed hard, black veins creeping up his neck as he fought for breath. “Because... you’re a healer. I—I had no choice but to find you.”

A flicker of mild amusement crossed Arabella’s face. “That’s not much of an offer. There are other healers much closer to your home.”

Perris’s expression twisted, rage warring with panic. “You turned traitor. Married the Dark Lord. You—you’re worse than your father ever said.”

The temperature in the hall plummeted as my magic responded to a surge of rage. The shadows around me darkened, ready to tear into his flesh. Terror filled Perris’s eyes as he just realized how suicidal an insult that was.

Arabella gave me a subtle headshake.

I warred with myself, but let her control the conversation. Though I made sure Perris saw the truth in my eyes—that if my wife hadn’t intervened, he would be screaming his apology before dying.

“My father’s opinions have never concerned me,” she said to Perris. “But I am curious about yours. Why are you poisoned? And why come to me for healing when the last time I saw you, you were calling for my imprisonment for attacking you?”

“Because, if you heal me, I’ll tell you anything I know.”

Arabella’s face was a mask of cold calculation. I was fascinated by this darker version of her compassion. The healer deciding who deserved salvation.

She glanced at me. “I assume you have no objection to me healing him for information?”

“As long as he understands that lying to us afterward will result in me reapplying the poison myself. With interest.” I directed this last comment to Perris, whose eyes widened in fear.

She turned back to our captive. “Then you better speak quickly, or I might not be able to do anything for you.”

“They poisoned me,” Perris began.

“Who?” I asked.

“King Auremar. We had an arrangement.” Perris gasped for air, and I thought he’d die before giving us anything useful.

“Spit it out,” I commanded. Much as I wanted to hurry this interrogation along, my dominion magic would likely be too strong for him in this state. He’d die before revealing anything useful.

Perris flinched. “If I hadn’t done it, someone else would have. The king needed someone to meet with bandits and let them know the border defenses were... pulled back.”

The shadows around me darkened further, my runes thrumming. “So you’re the one funneling gold to the bandits,” I said softly. “Torching villages on the king’s orders.”

Arabella’s gaze never left Perris. “You ruined how many lives?” she pressed, her voice calm, but not gentle. “I could let you rot. Unless you have something else worth trading. Something more than what we already know.”

I let my shadows swirl menacingly around him. “I should kill you here and now for all the trouble you’ve caused me,” I said, voice low.

He coughed wetly, black spittle flecking his lips. “I swear there’s more. I overheard the king. He’s planning something with you, Lady Even—Blackrose. Some ceremony, not just a marriage.”

She stepped forward. “What kind of ceremony?”

He clutched at her sleeve, half pleading, half furious. “I don’t know the details. I—please?—”

I tensed, ready to yank her back. But Arabella raised her hand, motioning for me to hold. A glint in her eyes told me she wanted to see what else he might confess. She leaned in. “Do you know more?”

Perris nodded frantically, eyes wild. “Yes, yes, much more—I’ll tell— Just heal me.”

But Arabella’s eyes burned with righteous fury. “You know,” she said with deceptive softness, “I’ve spent my entire life being told I have a duty to heal.” She tilted her head. “But I think I’ve finally realized something important.”

“What?” Perris gasped, the black poison veins now creeping toward his temples.

Arabella’s smile was cold enough to rival my own. “I get to choose who deserves my gift.”

Perris’s expression crumpled in disbelief. “But—you can’t?—”

“Oh, I absolutely can,” Arabella said.

“Please—” he begged, reaching for her sleeve again.

She stepped out of reach. “Fuck you, Perris. You’re going to die, just like those people you betrayed.”

I felt a surge of... something. Pride? Arousal? Both, if I was being honest. This darker side of Arabella was exquisite. I could have reminded her that he might have more information, but I wanted to watch her embrace this part of herself without my interference.

Perris alternated between curses and pleas as the poison worked its way through his system. His body convulsed, and black foam bubbled from his lips. “You heartless bitch,” he gasped. “You’re no better than him—” His eyes flicked to me.

“Perhaps,” Arabella said calmly. “But I’m the one who gets to walk away from this room.”

The last of his curses died with him, his body slumping in the chair.

I raised an eyebrow at Arabella. “That was... unexpected.”

She shrugged, though I could see the slight tremor in her hands. “He deserved worse.”

“I don’t disagree,” I said carefully. “Though we might have needed more information from him.”

“My truth-sense told me he’d given us everything useful,” she replied grimly. “The rest would have been just pathetic begging. Besides, I thought you’d appreciate the efficiency.”

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

“Let’s go,” she said, turning toward the door. “We have a war to plan.”

I followed, unable to suppress the fierce pride swelling in my chest. My wife—my brilliant, ruthless wife—was becoming more dangerous by the day.

And I was absolutely here for it.