Chapter 51 Receive Therapy from Your Minions
(Rock Bottom Looks like This)
Kazimir
Tell me again,” I said to Vex, who stood with her clipboard, “why they brought livestock?”
I stood in the Great Hall, watching with growing horror as yet another family of twelve unpacked their belongings. The Moonbays had brought their entire household staff. The Tidehavens had arrived with seventeen trunks of “essentials.” And somewhere in the chaos, a rooster crowed.
“That would be Ferdinand.” Vex made a note. “Lady Elena Clearwater’s half brother insisted he was family.”
“It’s a rooster.”
“Yes, my lord.” Another note. “Marna is threatening to serve coq au vin for dinner.”
I watched as two children raced past, shrieking with laughter. One of them knocked over a suit of armor.
“The dungeons,” I said, not for the first time today. “We could put them all in the dungeons. They’d be much easier to manage.”
“Lady Blackrose would object.”
I rubbed my temples. “Lady Blackrose is in our chambers, avoiding this chaos like the clever woman she is.”
Sebastian appeared at my elbow, looking harried. “Actually, she’s in the training room. Said something about needing to hit things.”
Of course. She was just as keyed up as I was. I’d barely had a chance to tell her how proud I was of how she’d handled Zaraiah and Pip, though I had many reasons for wishing I’d been there myself.
For the fun, obviously.
The Syndicate’s betrayal gnawed at me—Zaraiah’s attack on my wife, and Pip’s treachery finally explained. My shadows had twitched restlessly since Arabella’s recounting, eager for vengeance I couldn’t yet claim.
But rage without strategy was just noise. The Syndicate would answer for their games, but first we had to survive long enough to make them regret it.
“Speaking of chaos,” Sebastian continued, “I’ve done a full accounting. Auremar got to more bloodlines than we thought. At least thirty in Valmont alone.”
“How many did you manage to save in Solandris?”
“Forty-three of the lesser bloodlines.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I brought them all when I came back two days ago. Before I went after Arabella.”
“Forty-three.” I stared at him. “By yourself?”
Sebastian nodded to a far table near the back of the hall.
The entire cluster of them—bastards and forgotten branches, the kind of people who’d never seen the inside of a proper keep—pressed together at the far end of the hall like rabbits cornered by wolves.
Their wide eyes tracked every shout, every clash of silverware, every burst of indignant squawking from the demon rooster.
They looked exactly how I felt.
A crash echoed from somewhere. Vex sighed and made another note.
“I’m still not sure why they’re all gathered here instead of being silent as the grave in their rooms.”
She looked at me with an arched brow. “There’s nowhere else safe for them to congregate, my lord, and locking them in their rooms would be the equivalent of putting them in the dungeons.”
“Exactly. It’s perfectly harmless.”
“Anyway, Griffin’s supervising.” Vex paused. “Well, attempting to supervise. Last I saw, they’d convinced him to demonstrate his self-writing poetry quills.”
Griffin was scrambling between tables, lunging for animated quills that darted just out of reach.
Teenagers shrieked with laughter as the quills scrawled across napkins.
Lady Coralia Montaven pressed one hand to her chest, her mouth forming a perfect O of horror.
Meanwhile, someone Vex had called “Aunt Cordy” held a completed sonnet at arm’s length, cackling like a woman half her age.
“The quills that only write erotic sonnets about tentacles?” I asked.
“Those would be the ones.”
I was going to need a stiff drink. “How many heroic guests are currently in my fortress?”
Vex consulted her clipboard. “Seventy-eight of heroic bloodlines with their family members equals two hundred thirty-one total.”
“Two hundred thirty—” I cut myself off. Deep breaths. “And they’re all getting along?”
“Oh, absolutely not.” She smiled brightly. “The Shellfords and Moonbays have a three-generation blood feud, as I mentioned. Lord Brightwater thinks the Fekete twins are beneath him. The rooster has declared war on the kitchen cats. And someone started a rumor that you eat babies for breakfast.”
“I haven’t eaten a baby in years,” I said drily.
“I’ll be sure to clarify that at dinner.” She made another note. “Oh, and three marriage proposals have arrived for you this morning.”
“I’m already married.”
“Yes, but apparently some of our guests think you might be open to alternatives.” She pulled out a perfumed letter. “Lady Moonbay’s eldest daughter was quite creative in her suggestions.”
I incinerated the letter without reading it. “Where’s Thorne?”
“Hiding in the armory. He said, and I quote, ‘I didn’t sign up to babysit nobility.’ ” Vex paused and finally looked up at me from her notes. “My lord,” she began carefully, “perhaps you should speak with Lady Blackrose.”
“Perhaps I should turn this entire hall into a mass portal and dump everyone in the swamp.”
“The environmental impact—”
“I don’t care about the fucking environmental impact!”
Vex and Sebastian exchanged looks.
“Fine. I’ll go check on Arabella,” I said, desperate to escape. “Try not to let anyone burn down my fortress while I’m gone.”
“We’ll do our best,” Vex said. “Though I make no promises about Ferdinand.”
As if summoned, the rooster strutted into view, his red crest gleaming. He fixed me with one beady eye and crowed.
“I’m the Dark Lord,” I told him. “I’ve conquered kingdoms. I’ve broken demons. I am not going to be intimidated by poultry.”
The rooster regarded me for a moment, then squawked loudly before turning and running off.
“At least someone around here has some sense,” I muttered. Then I suddenly remembered why I’d even entered this chaos in the first place. “Vex, a word.”
I led Vex to a small alcove off the Great Hall, where the noise from the impromptu refugee camp was only slightly muffled. The sounds of children shrieking, nobles arguing, and that damned rooster crowing created a cacophony worse than any solstice party I’d ever attended.
“This is worse than the time the Syndicate hosted that orgy-slash–book club,” I muttered, leaning against the stone wall. “At least there, the participants knew when to use their inside voices.”
Vex’s lips twitched. “I believe Lady Blackrose would call this ‘hospitality.’ ”
“Speaking of my wife.” I fixed Vex with a hard stare. “You left her alone.”
Vex’s expression didn’t change, but she glanced at the shadows darkening the alcove. “She wasn’t alone. She had Nyx and the shadow warriors.”
“You were supposed to stay with her.” Heat built beneath my skin, the runes responding to my rising anger. I forced my voice level, but it took effort. “That was the entire point of sending you.”
Vex met my gaze, and I saw genuine regret flash across her features. “Lady Blackrose ordered me to return with the first group of families. Who was I supposed to obey?”
“Me,” I snapped. “Obviously me.”
Yes, the voice whispered. They should all obey. They should all kneel.
My hands were trembling. I pressed them flat against the wall behind me.
“Because from where I stand,” Vex continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “Lady Blackrose is perfectly capable of knowing her own mind and issuing her own orders.” She paused meaningfully. “And enforcing said orders.”
I exhaled through my nose. Then took a deep breath. Vex was right, damn it.
She studied me for a moment, her silver eyes unreadable. “Speaking of which—you and Lady Blackrose seem different lately.”
The strain in our relationship since the God Spire was obvious to anyone who knew us well, and Vex knew us better than most.
“What did she tell you?” I asked, my voice low.
“Nothing specific. But I’ve served you for almost fifteen years, my lord. I notice things.”
The reminder of our history only intensified my discomfort. Vex had been there through some of my darkest moments. She’d seen me at my worst and stayed anyway. But this—this was different. This wasn’t about conquest or power or even vengeance.
This was about how I’d attempted to use my dominion magic on the one person I’d sworn never to control.
The one person who mattered more than anything.
A hairline crack appeared in the stone where my hand pressed against the wall. I pulled back, flexing my fingers. The runes pulsed with heat, then cold, then heat again. My body couldn’t decide if it wanted to burn or freeze.
“I may have fucked everything up,” I admitted. The words scraped my throat raw, and saying them aloud made my chest constrict.
Vex leaned against the opposite wall. “If it was truly unsalvageable, she would have already killed you.”
I snorted. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”
“It’s perspective.” She folded her arms. “Lady Blackrose isn’t exactly known for her restraint when crossed. The fact that you’re still breathing suggests she believes there’s something worth saving.”
“Or she’s planning something particularly creative for my demise.” My voice cracked on the last word. Shit. I was falling apart, piece by piece, and Vex was watching it happen.
The shadows coiled tighter around my ankles, climbing up my legs like chains.
“Always a possibility.” Vex’s tone softened slightly. “What happened at the Spire?”
I looked away, studying the tapestry on the alcove wall. Telling Vex would mean admitting my weakness, my failure. It would mean speaking aloud the fear that had been gnawing at me since that night.
That I was becoming something I couldn’t control.
That I was losing myself.
That I was going to hurt Arabella, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it.
You were always meant for this, whispered a voice that wasn’t quite mine. Dominion is your birthright.
The runes flared hot enough to make me gasp. I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling them burn beneath skin and bone.
“I tried to control her,” I forced out. Each word felt like pulling thorns from my throat.