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FEED THE SHARKS IN YOUR BATHTUB (BEFORE THEY SMELL BLOOD)

ARABELLA

The midnight-blue gown absorbed light rather than reflected it, creating an effect as if I were wrapped in a slice of moonless sky.

Silver thread traced subtle patterns along the bodice and sleeves—arcane symbols mirroring some of the runes on Kazimir’s skin.

The neckline plunged lower than I preferred, and the back dipped even more dramatically, exposing most of my spine to the icy air that lingered over the lightning bridge.

By this point, though, I only bothered with cloaks when it was cold enough to freeze my last functioning brain cells.

Otherwise, the wind grabbed them and tried to tug me over the edge.

Vex walked beside me because Kazimir was already in the Great Hall with the Syndicate. I’d needed more time to dress—and, if I were being honest, to brace myself for a midnight dinner gathering where I felt like both the main course and the entertainment.

She eyed me as we descended a tower staircase. “You look like you’re marching to your execution,” she remarked, her hair dyed a deep, blood-red hue.

“Maybe I am,” I muttered.

We paused at a landing, and Vex turned to face me. Her gaze flickered silver for a split second—something I’d learned happened only when she was truly worried about Kazimir.

“The Syndicate values three things: power, profit, and predictability,” she said quietly. “They already know you have power—your bloodline makes that obvious. What they don’t know is whether you’re their asset or their liability.”

I lifted my eyebrow. “Which am I supposed to be?”

“Neither.” Vex gently adjusted the small silver circlet nestled in my hair. “You’re Lady Blackrose, wife to the Dark Lord and mistress of this fortress. You’re not beneath them, and you’re not afraid of them.”

I tried to manage a sardonic smile. “So basically, act like Kazimir with better manners and fewer war crimes?”

Her mouth twitched. “Not exactly. Lord Blackrose already has his own history with the Syndicate. You’re unknown, which can be useful.”

She continued down the stairs, lowering her voice as we neared the final curve. “There are three representatives you need to watch carefully: Lady Zaraiah holds the Chair of Whispers—she runs the entire intelligence network.” Vex’s tone hardened. “She and Lord Blackrose have... history.”

Jealousy sparked hot and sudden in my chest. I let out an aggravated breath. How many of Kazimir’s ex-lovers would I end up meeting? First Morana, now Zaraiah. Apparently, the Dark Lord had left a trail of scorned women across the realm. “And the others?”

Vex stepped off the final stair. “The Alchemist holds the Chair of Transformation. Never accept anything they offer you to eat or drink. If you must, purify it with your healing magic. I once saw them turn a rival’s bones to glass in the middle of a toast. The man clinked nicely for a few weeks. .. until he died.”

A chill ran along my spine. “They’d poison me at a diplomatic dinner?”

“They wouldn’t call it poison,” she said bluntly.

“They’d call it ‘testing your resilience’.

They believe real power shows best under duress.

” She glanced forward, voice stretching thin.

“And the third is Lady Vespera, who holds the Chair of Contracts. Every word out of her mouth binds in ways you wouldn’t believe. Be extremely precise when you respond.”

We reached the bottom of the staircase, and I could already hear voices drifting from the hall. Vex halted one last time, turning to me with an uncharacteristically earnest look. “Remember, Lady Blackrose, the Syndicate isn’t here to befriend you. They’re here to assess a threat.”

“Kazimir,” I said.

She nodded. “And by extension, you. They sensed a surge of magic from the citadel. They know something about the Dark Lord has changed, and they suspect you’re the reason.”

My mouth felt dry. “And if they decide we’re too dangerous?”

“Then nothing good.” She exhaled sharply, then straightened my circlet one final time. “So give them enough truth to keep them satisfied, don’t hesitate, and smile like you’re about to ruin their lives and have fun doing it.”

She pushed open the doors and ushered me in.

A wave of static-like magic spilled out from the room, seven separate power signatures spiking the air with tension.

The hair on my arms prickled, and I almost raised my defenses on instinct.

These people weren’t just aristocrats; they were apex predators, and the air around them shimmered with barely contained power.

A single long table waited in the center, draped in black linens and lit with floating orbs of pale blue light. I recognized it as the same table where I’d poured wine onto Kazimir’s shirt, only now it was set for eight, with centerpieces of black roses and strange glowing fungi.

Kazimir anchored the head of the table, dressed to match my midnight-blue tones with silver accents and a tailored jacket that emphasized his tall frame. Shadows curled around his fingertips.

He was surrounded by six people who could only be the Syndicate. My truth-sense vibrated uncomfortably, not because they were lying but because the entire atmosphere shimmered with masked intentions.

Standing near Kazimir was a tall, willowy woman with short-cropped hair that accentuated her regal posture.

She wore a crimson dress that revealed most of her limbs and neck.

Her fingertips grazed Kazimir’s arm in a way that knotted my stomach with jealousy.

I guessed that was Lady Zaraiah. But I noticed Kazimir’s jaw tighten when she touched him, like a man forcing himself not to flinch from a hot iron.

For some strange reason, that quiet refusal settled something in me, and I strode forward.

He looked up when I approached, and his calm mask shifted to approval briefly before he extended his hand. The gesture had him stepping away from Zaraiah with a casual firmness that she didn’t miss.

“Here she is,” Kaz said, voice warm with a charm he’d refined to perfection. “My allies of the Syndicate, please allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Arabella Blackrose.”

I was aware they were all tracking my movement when I took his hand. One by one, he introduced the Syndicate members.

Lady Vespera, short and round with silver-streaked hair piled high, wore a conservative charcoal gown shimmering faintly with enchantments. Despite her grandmotherly image, her eyes felt razor-sharp.

“Lady Blackrose,” she greeted in a voice deeper than I expected. She sized me up in a single glance and nodded once.

The Alchemist wore kaleidoscopic robes that refused to stay one color for more than a few seconds.

A partial face mask hid everything above their thin mouth set in a mysterious half-smile.

They murmured, “Fascinating,” and I felt a ripple of magic that made me dizzy.

“Her aura fluctuates in counterpoint to yours, Kazimir.”

The remaining Syndicate members were no less striking.

Baron Revek, half-mechanical with brass gears visible in his chest cavity, and Garrick the Unmourned, draped in funeral black and avoiding my eyes as if he were seeing ghosts behind me.

Most ostentatious was Lord Faustian Gilt, a rotund figure with unnaturally golden skin and tiny jewels in place of pores.

He watched me with the cutting gaze of a merchant appraising goods.

Then Lady Zaraiah swept forward with fluid grace that made me despise everything about her. “Lady Blackrose,” she purred in a musical accent, “it’s such a pleasure to meet the woman who finally tamed our untamable Kazimir. We’d begun to think he was incapable of domesticity.”

She smiled brilliantly, overflowing with insincerity.

I held my own smile without blinking. “I wouldn’t presume to tame anything. Lord Blackrose never bends to someone else’s will. I’ve just learned more creative ways to channel his enthusiasm.”

Kazimir’s thumb slid across my knuckles in silent approval, a gesture that said both “well played” and “I’ll make you pay for that later.”

“Indeed not,” Lady Vespera said, her voice seeming to vibrate the air. “But marriage is its own constraint, wouldn’t you agree?”

I steeled my voice, recalling Vex’s warning about Vespera’s gift for binding words. “I consider it a partnership,” I said carefully. “We both bring unique strengths to a shared purpose.”

“And that purpose might be...?” the Alchemist asked with a sing-song curiosity, tapping their fingers in a beat that made my temples throb.

I glanced at Kazimir, and he gave me the faintest nod. “Exploring my magical abilities,” I replied.

Lady Vespera’s eyebrows crept upward. “Indeed. Your family’s healing powers are quite well-known.”

“Perhaps we should discuss such matters over dinner,” Kazimir suggested smoothly.

“Of course,” Lady Zaraiah agreed, though her eyes lingered on me with undisguised curiosity.

Kazimir guided me to the seat at his right hand, while the Syndicate members arranged themselves around the table. Servants appeared silently, bearing trays of delicacies and decanters of wine.

“Tell me, Lady Blackrose,” Zaraiah said after we’d all been served. “How are you finding life at Skyspire Citadel? I understand you were raised to heal the sick and comfort the dying… not to share a bed with the man who causes much of the sickness and dying.”

Before I could answer, something brushed my ankle under the table, making me startle. Kazimir’s shadowy magic curled around my leg—not forcibly, but in a way that felt both proprietary and oddly comforting. He pretended not to notice the look I gave him.

“Yes, Lady Blackrose has remarkable life-magic,” Kazimir said in a polished tone, all while that damned shadow traveled higher. “Her heroic lineage ensures it’s potent.”

“How fascinating,” Lady Zaraiah murmured, eyes gleaming. “One might assume you orchestrated this union purely to capture that power, Kazimir.”