Chapter 2 Collect Strays and Fugitives #2
I found myself oddly delighted by Nyx’s timing and decided to forgive her. Nothing said “welcome to the villain’s camp” like a dragon devouring human remains.
The tent was finally secured, and servants arranged a simple meal inside. Before entering, I stepped directly into Sebastian’s path. The shadows at my feet darkened, and I let just enough power leak through to make the air crackle.
“You’re not here to save my wife, are you?”
His violet eyes met mine without flinching, then shifted to Arabella. “Does she need saving?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t.”
Sebastian studied her face, then nodded. “Then I’m not here to save anyone but myself, Dark Lord.”
I held his gaze a moment longer, searching for deceit. Finding none, I stepped aside and let him pass.
Inside, we settled around a low table set with bread, cheese, and wine.
Sebastian fell upon it like a starving man.
Arabella sat beside me, her knee occasionally brushing mine under the table.
Outside, Nyx’s continued bone-crunching provided a macabre backdrop to our conversation.
Every so often, she would let out a contented growl and fly off, presumably to retrieve another course from the buffet she’d left strewn across the landscape.
Each time she cracked another skull, Sebastian flinched hard enough to rattle the dishes.
“So,” I said as a servant poured wine for Arabella, “why were Auremar’s soldiers chasing Solandris’s most famous baker?”
Sebastian set down his bread. “The king declared me ‘royal property’ due to my bloodline.”
“Property?” Arabella frowned.
He nodded. “That was the exact wording in the decree—‘All persons of heroic descent are hereby designated property of the crown and must submit to royal authority for the greater good of Solandris.’ ”
I leaned back, swirling my wine. “Do you know why?”
“No, but I wasn’t eager to stick around and find out.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I only got wind of it hours before they came for me, and fled here. Though I didn’t expect you to be so close.”
“Straight to the Dark Lord of the Western Realms?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
“Everyone knows what happened to the Hero’s Guild when they attacked Skyspire. Ironically, it seemed like the safest place to be.”
I stared at him. In all my years as a warlord, no one had ever sought me out for protection without offering something substantial in return—usually their soul, metaphorically speaking.
Certainly not a man with heroic lineage, the very sort of person who should have been organizing resistance against me.
“We’ll give you sanctuary,” Arabella declared before I could respond.
I shot her a look, which she pointedly ignored. The thought of this noble, scone-baking paragon of virtue hanging around my fortress made me grind my teeth.
“Thank you.” Relief flooded Sebastian’s voice. “I had hoped, but I wasn’t certain.” He cleared his throat. “Your hospitality is most appreciated, Lady Blackrose.”
“Arabella, please.” Her smile was warm and genuine. “We’ve known each other too long for formalities.”
Something in my chest tightened at the easy familiarity between them.
The way she softened when she looked at him.
The shared history I wasn’t part of. I knew it was irrational.
Arabella was mine, bound to me by magic and choice and a frankly obscene number of orgasms. But rationality had never been my strong suit when it came to her.
“We’re preparing for war,” I pointed out, my voice dangerously mild. “We don’t have time to babysit Solandris’s favorite pastry chef.”
Arabella gave me a warning look. I ignored it just as she had ignored mine.
Sebastian pretended not to notice our silent battle of wills. “I understand your reluctance, Lord Blackrose. But I assure you I won’t be in the way. And I may have information that could be useful.”
I folded my arms. “Such as?”
“Auremar has been… changing.” He fixed his violet eyes on me, then Arabella. “The court whispers that he spends hours locked in the ancient chambers beneath the palace, consulting with practitioners of forbidden arts.”
That caught my attention, but I kept my expression neutral. Sebastian didn’t need to know we already suspected something along those lines. “What kind of forbidden arts?”
“Blood magic, primarily.”
Arabella and I exchanged glances.
“And you believe this is connected to his sudden interest in collecting people with heroic bloodlines?” I asked.
Sebastian nodded. “It must be.”
Cold, quiet rage settled over me. It all pointed to the same madness Atticus Evenfall had spoken of—a dark power behind the king’s throne. If Auremar wanted heroic blood for something big, it threatened more than just Sebastian’s life.
It threatened Arabella.
My chair creaked under my grip as I imagined the king’s hands on her. Then his perfectly coiffed head on a spike. His palace reduced to rubble. His bloodline ended with prejudice and fire.
I’d accidentally thwarted his plans once. The second time would be intentional, thorough, and deeply satisfying.
My gaze flickered to Arabella, who was watching Sebastian with a thoughtful frown. I reminded myself she was no longer a pawn in her father’s games or a prize for a decrepit king. She was the Dark Lady at my side, capable of leveling armies and looking devastatingly beautiful while doing it.
Auremar would never touch her.
If he tried, I’d make what happened to the Hero’s Guild look like a pleasant afternoon tea.
“I came with nothing but the clothes on my back and my horse,” Sebastian continued. “No provisions or wealth. I can offer only my gratitude and whatever services you deem valuable.” He hesitated. “Though I should warn you, my skills run more to diplomatic negotiations and pastry than warfare.”
Skyspire had become my sanctuary with Arabella.
Our sanctuary. I’d grown accustomed to having her entirely to myself, with no competition for her attention save my advisors and the dragon.
The thought of sharing that space with someone from her past, someone who knew her before she became my wife, was unexpectedly galling.
But she had taken Sebastian under her protection, and despite my overwhelming desire to feed him to Nyx, I would honor that.
“Fine,” I conceded. “But try anything suspicious and you’ll discover firsthand why my enemies don’t live long enough to spread rumors.”
“Understood.” Sebastian inclined his head. “Thank you, Lord Blackrose. I won’t forget this kindness.”
My eye twitched. I considered housing Lord Sebastian in my trophy room, where he would be surrounded by the gentle clinking of enemy skulls in the evening breeze. “It’s not kindness. It’s strategy. If Auremar wants you badly enough to send troops, I want to know why.”
A loud crunch from outside made Sebastian jump. A fresh slurping noise followed, wet and enthusiastic.
“Is the dragon always like this?” he asked weakly.
“No.” I smiled with dark cheerfulness. “Usually she’s much worse.”
Arabella nudged my leg under the table. Hard. “Nyx’s appetite has increased dramatically in recent weeks.”
“I see.” Sebastian was clearly trying not to listen to the dragon’s feasting. “And will she accompany us to Skyspire?”
“Of course,” Arabella and I said at the same time.
Alarm flashed across Sebastian’s face before he smoothed it into a polite smile. “Wonderful. I’ve always found dragons fascinating.”
“They find heroic bloodlines delicious.” I paused for effect. “Something in the marrow, or so I’ve heard.”
“Kazimir,” Arabella warned.
I shrugged innocently. “Just sharing scientific facts.”
Lord Sebastian might not be easily frightened away, but I had an entire citadel at my disposal. Surely I could make him uncomfortable enough to leave voluntarily.
And if not, well, accidents happened at Skyspire all the time.
Sebastian glanced between us, a calculating intelligence in his eyes. “You two seem well matched.”
“We are.” I draped my arm possessively across the back of Arabella’s chair. “Perfectly matched, in fact.”
“Against all odds,” Arabella added drily, though she was smiling.
Sebastian’s gaze lingered on her. “I’m glad to see you happy, Arabella. It’s been too long since we spoke.”
“Almost as if her father deliberately kept her isolated,” I commented. “Strange, that.”
“Not strange at all,” Sebastian replied, surprising me with his frankness.
“Lord Evenfall’s treatment of Lady Arabella was well-known among the nobility, though few dared speak of it openly.
My father tried to intervene once, after an incident.
Lord Evenfall threatened to dissolve all trade agreements with the Northern Peaks in retaliation. ”
Arabella stiffened. Through our bond, I felt a flicker of resentment. Not at Sebastian, but at the reminder of how the world had stood by and watched.
I brushed my thumb over her shoulder in support. “What incident?”
Sebastian looked to Arabella, a question in his eyes. I watched her for the cascade of emotions—anger, shame, bitterness.
But there was nothing. Instead, a faint line appeared between her brows. She nodded slightly, giving permission.
“When we were fifteen,” Sebastian began carefully, “my family hosted an Autumnal Equinox celebration. Arabella attended with her father. During the festivities, I found her locked in a root cellar. She’d been there for hours because she’d spoken to a young man without her father’s permission.”
I felt Arabella’s confusion spike. A cold, hollow sensation followed by a wave of secondhand humiliation and a slow-burning rage that mirrored my own. Her face, however, remained a carefully controlled mask.
She glanced at me with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. She didn’t remember.