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“One might,” he agreed, voice neutral. “But fate has a peculiar sense of humor where I’m concerned.”

The tendril of shadow was halfway up my thigh, and I tried not to choke on my wine.

I wanted to throttle him or maybe drag him away to discuss boundaries.

Yet from a strictly practical standpoint, it kept me from fixating on the cluster of deadly predators watching us.

I just wished he’d chosen a less distracting method.

The Alchemist skewered a piece of food on a tiny fork and addressed me again. “So you arrived here rather abruptly, from what we gather?”

I carefully set my goblet aside, ignoring the building tension vaporizing my self-control. “Lord Blackrose can be very persuasive.”

Lady Zaraiah’s laugh had a harsh edge. “Oh, I remember his persuasions. They were quite irresistible... for a while.”

It sounded too pointed. I forced a calm smile. “Strange how some things last, and others... don’t.” I let my gaze flick to her hand, still brushing Kazimir’s sleeve like a cat pawing a cushion. “Sometimes the hold disappears altogether.”

Kazimir’s shadow stilled under the table, then abruptly vanished. A glance at him showed his expression had hardened. Yet he spoke in a smooth, almost genial voice. “My wife and I share a unique bond.”

Lord Gilt, the golden-skinned commerce chair, interjected. “We noticed. The magical surge from your consummation rattled three entire kingdoms. Cost me a fortune in trade.”

Kaz’s hand moved to mine.

“Did your father approve of this union, my dear?” Vespera asked. “I recall Lord Evenfall kept you sheltered.”

“My father’s opinions stopped mattering long ago,” I said with an edge to my voice. “He likely felt cheated that he couldn’t auction me off.”

“Auction?” The Alchemist cocked their head, enthralled. “To someone else entirely?”

“King Auremar,” I clarified, hearing my voice tighten. There was no reason to hide what they likely already knew.

Lady Zaraiah exhaled something resembling a faint laugh. “So you’ve angered the crown of Solandris on top of everything else. Typical Kazimir style.”

“That explains the movements of the Hero’s Guild,” Vespera said, pinning Kazimir with a look. “And your army.”

He merely shrugged. “Auremar and I were enemies already. Now it’s more official.”

The conversation drifted to trade routes, magical components, and politics.

I mostly listened, examining how each Syndicate member responded to Kazimir.

Respect existed, but it was laced with apprehension.

Lady Zaraiah hovered near him with unsettling familiarity, while the Alchemist studied me like I was their next experiment.

Dessert arrived—dark chocolate and berries dusted with edible gold—and Lady Zaraiah finally spoke again. “You’ve been quietly absent from Syndicate affairs, Kazimir. We wondered if you’d lost interest in our collective efforts.”

“My focus has been on securing my marriage and consolidating matters at Skyspire,” he replied calmly.

“Yes, your abrupt interest in matrimony was fascinating,” Lady Vespera observed, eyes drifting toward me. “Especially after you rejected the idea so forcefully in the past.”

I debated letting the silence hang, then spoke up. “People do change,” I said, each word measured. “Or maybe they find motivation that wasn’t there before.”

Lady Zaraiah’s smile held the gleam of a blade. “Kazimir’s motivations of power and dominance have always been consistent. One wonders what you could possibly offer him.”

Kazimir’s voice went dangerously soft. “Perhaps you presume too much, Zaraiah. My wife is not your interrogation subject.”

She responded with a predatory tilt of her head. “But she’s so responsive. I can’t help being curious about her strengths... or weaknesses.”

I leaned in, refusing to look away from her challenging gaze. “If it was only about power, Kazimir could’ve pursued it elsewhere. I assume certain paths proved short-lived?”

Her bright red nails tapped the table. Kazimir’s posture stiffened enough to signal he was done entertaining that line of talk, and Garrick took the opening.

“We’ve sensed changes running far deeper here,” Garrick said, voice scratchy as a coffin’s hinge. “Magic straining under an ancient hunger. It feels as if something latched onto this citadel, feeding.”

My stomach turned cold, but I kept my shock off my face.

“My wife’s bloodline resonates strongly with my dominion magic,” Kazimir said. “It’s produced interesting consequences.”

“And potential hazards,” Lord Gilt muttered, tapping jeweled fingertips on his goblet. “That concerns the Syndicate.”

Kazimir’s shadows loomed a fraction darker along the walls. “If I’ve threatened the Syndicate, it’s news to me. Our goals remain aligned.”

“But your methods do not,” Baron Revek said. Something mechanical whirred from his chest.

Garrick’s gaze settled across the table at me. “You two share power. That threatens the balance we rely on.”

I forced my spine to remain straight. “Does the Syndicate oppose innovation? Isn’t experimentation part of your core?”

The Alchemist let out a delighted laugh. “She certainly has a point.”

Kazimir used that moment to propose ending the dinner, claiming our guests had traveled far and needed rest. After a subtly charged exchange of glances, Lady Vespera agreed.

One by one, servants led the Syndicate members to their guest suites.

Lady Zaraiah paused by me on her way out, leaning in so I caught a potent whiff of her spicy perfume.

She whispered for my ears alone, “Kazimir collects power like trophies—beautiful at first, then replaced once he finds something better.” She gave a soft, knowing smile. “Don’t mistake your present seat for permanence.”

I couldn’t resist a low murmur, though she was already turning away. “Did he discard your power, or did you simply fail to keep him interested?”

Her step hesitated, shoulders tensing just slightly under that gorgeous crimson gown, but she walked on without a word.

Meanwhile, Kaz was giving orders to a servant in a low voice. By the time I excused myself, he caught up to me in the hallway with a fleeting grim look that softened once our eyes met.

“I keep repeating this,” he said quietly, “but you were brilliant.”

I crossed my arms over the gown’s low neckline. “Apparently, your ex-lovers are more dangerous than your enemies. Should I be taking notes or hiring a guard?”

His mouth twitched. “Jealous, are we?”

“Try concerned,” I hissed. “Zaraiah seemed to know you awfully well.”

He brushed a stray lock of hair away from my face, and a faint tingle burst along my skin at the small gesture. “Not as well as she believes,” he said. “She wanted power more than she wanted me. But I refused her .”

“Does she plan to orchestrate your downfall now?”

He gave a humorless snort. “Most likely. She’s more trouble than Morana, but less cunning. Trust me.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth. Even in the midst of political chaos, a pulse of heat flared between us. “You do have a habit of making your lovers into enemies,” I quipped softly.

“Then maybe I did it in the correct order with you.”

“Enemy first, lover second? Truly romantic.”

He stepped closer. “It’s a foundation built on truth, even if it’s a twisted one.”

“Speaking of twisted,” I said with a glare. “What in the hell were you doing with your shadows during dinner?”

“You looked tense,” he murmured, reaching up to brush his thumb across my collarbone. Amusement and desire warred in his eyes. “I thought a little... distraction might help.”

“That wasn’t distraction, that was torture,” I said, though I didn’t pull away as his fingers traced the edge of my plunging neckline. “And don’t pretend it was strategic. You’re suffering as much as I am.”

His eyes darkened. “Perhaps I am,” he admitted, voice dropping even lower. “Perhaps I’ve been thinking about how many ways I could touch you without breaking our restrictions. Maybe I’ve been lying awake cataloging every inch of you I could taste without triggering the Heirloom’s wrath.”

The tension rose again, a magnetic pull I nearly gave in to, until footsteps echoed around the corner.

Kazimir seized that moment, pressing his lips to mine in a swift, heated kiss right as a servant passed by.

My breath caught in my throat, and I waited for some punishing blast of magic to slam me for ignoring the Heirloom’s delicate condition. But none came.

The servant scurried past, clearly trying not to stare. I glared at Kazimir once I could breathe again, voice lowered to a ferocious whisper. “You’re an insufferable bastard.”

He showed me a wicked grin. “Everything’s fair in love and war, Lady Blackrose.” Then he offered his arm with that smug, gallant formality. “Shall we retire? We’ll need our wits tomorrow.”

I slipped my hand onto his arm, not sure if I wanted to slap him or kiss him harder. As we strode toward our chambers, my mind spun with the memory of the words he’d let slip.

Love and war.

He’d said it so easily. And deep in my chest, I recognized something fierce: if he was indeed a villain, then he was my villain, fury and all. Let Zaraiah choke on her regret.