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Griffin gulped. “Not in detail, just… that your lineage is important. That your presence matters. That I wasn’t to bother you or do anything that might scare you away. Though I suppose me being here at all might count as bothering you, in which case I should probably go?—”

“You created this?” I gestured to the crystal displays, deliberately changing the subject to put him at ease.

Pride momentarily replaced anxiety on Griffin’s expressive face. “Yes! Well, with His Lordship’s direction, of course. But the basic enchantment structure is mine.” He gestured animatedly. “The bridges respond to the needs of the citadel, adapting to traffic patterns and security concerns.”

“That’s remarkable,” I said, genuinely impressed. “What else have you created?”

Griffin’s face lit up as if no one had ever bothered to ask about his work.

“Oh, all sorts of things! The self-heating baths, the defensive wards that prevent assassins from approaching within ten feet of His Lordship...” He counted off on his long fingers.

“Also a rather disastrous attempt at self-writing poetry quills that only produced erotic sonnets about tentacles, but we aren’t supposed to talk about those anymore. ”

I raised an eyebrow. “The black roses?”

His amber eyes lit with pride. “Yes! Aren’t they magnificent? Metallic petals, lore-binding properties… uh, I mean, that was just for aesthetic flair?—”

“They’re certainly unique,” I said diplomatically. “Though one bit me last night.”

“Oh!” He recoiled like I’d hit him. “Did it… draw blood?”

I stared him down, letting the silence speak for me.

He gave a nervous, wheezing laugh. “It’s only meant to draw a tiny sample. They’re, um, testing magical resonance. Completely routine if you follow the Northern Enchanters’ Guild guidelines… after the last reform, anyway.”

I stood straighter. “Lord Blackrose put sneaky blood-sucking roses in my chambers,” I said flatly, “without my knowledge or consent.”

“Not sucking,” Griffin squeaked, “just sampling! Borrowing! Barely a drop. No harm done.”

My hand curled into a fist before I forced it back down. “So the Dark Lord has my blood. What’s he planning?”

Griffin’s gaze skittered anywhere but my face. “I—I’m not sure. Could be part of the wedding rites, or maybe an ancient text about ‘maiden blood’ that?—”

I cut him off. “Maiden blood, huh? Are you implying something about my virtue, Griffin?”

He spluttered as though choking on air. “No! Absolutely not! That’s none of my business, I Would Never Dare?—”

I let him squirm for a moment, but then decided to put him out of his misery, metaphorically speaking. “All right, enough. Take me to him.”

Griffin took a stumbling step back. “Lord Blackrose is busy in his workroom. He might be in the middle of… something, which is often hazardous. Occasionally humiliating for the poor soul who interrupts.”

“I don’t care if he’s in the middle of raising the dead,” I stepped closer. “You’re going to take me to him right now, or I’ll touch every single crystal in here and see what new chaos we can cause. Maybe all the bridges will collapse at once.”

He blanched, eyes flicking around the room. “Y-yes, my lady. Right this way, please. Though if he incinerates me on sight, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal.” I gestured at the door. “Lead the way.”

He led me through winding passages at a brisk pace, spouting apologies and nervous chatter, pointing out various features and occasionally apologizing for things I hadn’t accused him of.

Eventually, we reached a familiar tower.

Instead of going up toward my chambers, we proceeded down.

At the base, we turned down a darker corridor and followed it until Griffin halted at a black door etched with silver runes.

He hesitated. “Are you positive you won’t consider drafting a polite note of complaint instead? ”

I just stared him down until he sullenly knocked in a peculiar pattern—three quick taps, a pause, then two more. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed the door open and stepped aside.

“My lord,” he croaked, voice jumping a full octave. “Lady Evenfall insisted on seeing you. Says it’s urgent, definitely not my fault, I tried everything but she’s scarily persistent?—”

“Enough,” came Kazimir’s cool baritone from inside. “You may go.”

Griffin shot me a halfhearted grimace of solidarity before scuttling off, leaving me alone to face the embodiment of my current fury.

Kazimir stood with his back to me, leaning over a table cluttered with arcane tools and glass vials.

Magic glowed from an apparatus, casting flickers of eerie light over his tall form.

He was dressed in plain black, the sleeves rolled up to reveal corded forearms crisscrossed with scars.

Even my fury couldn’t dull how unreasonably attractive he looked.

“Lady Evenfall,” he said, not bothering to turn. “I was expecting you.”

“Were you?” I stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind me. “Perhaps you anticipated my visit when you stole my blood without my consent.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Griffin”.