Page 58 of The Dark Lord's Guide to Dating
My shadows flared in response, and a candle guttered in protest. The table fell silent as my advisors suddenly found their plates fascinating. I allowed her rebuke to slide, however, since I needed her cooperation.
Arabella held my gaze for a measured moment, aware of every advisor watching their Dark Lord yield ground.
She took a deliberate sip of wine.
Just then, Griffin’s apparatus coughed back to life. A bright band of light projected onto the ceiling: the glowing rivers of magic twisted and turned, forming a pattern that resembled some ancient script when viewed from below.
“There!” Griffin crowed, triumphant for half a second before the machine popped in a shower of sparks, but the image remained. “I’ll recalibrate it tomorrow,” he promised, looking crestfallen.
The moment of magic lingered as we gazed at the swirling lines. Then Arabella turned to me, and I recognized the intent in her eyes—curiosity, determination, a wariness that hadn’t yet resolved into trust.
“All right,” she said at last. “I’ll go. I need to see the truth myself.”
Griffin’s apparatus gave a final, pitiful sputter and died for good. Sims looked far too satisfied as he set his papers aside.
With the tension broken, conversation meandered into smaller topics. Arabella asked about Griffin’s latest failed experiments. She traded sly barbs with Sims and laughed at Thorne’s gruff jabs about incompetent raiders. I leaned back in my chair, letting her interact with my advisors on her own terms.
While she laughed with Vex about some lesser demon fiasco, I found myself studying the lines of her face, how her mouth curved when amused, how her hair glinted softly in the firelight. Another unwelcome ache settled in my chest at the sight of her so at ease.
I reminded myself that I was a warlord with plans to topple a kingdom; she was the key to harnessing power I’d dreamed of for years. Still, that logical reasoning wobbled dangerously every time I imagined her laughter turning softer, intimate, as if shared only for me.
25
MASTER THE DUALITY OF POWER (WHILE FIGHTING ATTRACTION)
ARABELLA
“Again.”
I gritted my teeth, sweat running down my face. The lily on the table trembled under my stare, as vibrant and alive as when I’d started. After a week of escalating magical exercises, my fingertips buzzed with a power I barely understood.
Kazimir’s voice came from somewhere behind me, smooth and maddeningly calm. “You’re still hesitating. The magic’s there, Arabella, but you refuse to channel it correctly.”
“I’mtrying,” I snapped, flicking a damp strand of hair from my face.
“You’re not.”
He stepped around the table, leaning against its edge. He looked so infuriatingly composed in his black tunic, while I felt like I’d been dragged backwards through a thornbush.
“You’re scared of your own potential,” he pressed. “You’ve spent your life healing and creating. You think tapping that same source to destroy is unnatural.”
I clenched my fists. “I’m not afraid.”
His mouth slid into a half-smile. “Then prove it.”
There sat the lily, mocking me. Healing was effortless—mending injuries, soothing fevers—simple. But I couldn’t bring myself to crush something that had done me no harm, even if it was just a flower. Every fiber of my being screamed no.
Kazimir leaned forward, hands splayed on the table. “Stop acting like destruction is a violation. It’s transformation. The same energy, just reversed.”
I let out a harsh breath. “Easier said than actually done.”
“You’re overthinking.” He circled until he stood beside me. “May I?” He lifted his hand as though asking permission to guide my own.
A reluctant curiosity bloomed inside me. “Fine.” I tried to sound dismissive, but my pulse throbbed in my throat. Part of me craved to learn exactly how far I could push my magic.
He positioned his hands just above mine, and a charge sparked between our palms.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed, his voice dropping, a little too intimate for my liking.
