Chapter 59 Practice Your Aim
(and Avoid Saying What You’re Really Feeling)
Arabella
I threw another knife, watching with satisfaction as it embedded itself into the center of the target with a solid thunk.
The Southeast Tower armory was nothing like the massive forge on the outer isle.
That place was all fire and chaos, with the constant ringing of hammers and shouting of smiths.
This space was intimate and precise, a carefully curated collection meant for the elite guards who protected the Inner Sanctum. Thorne’s domain.
Rows of gleaming weapons hung on the walls, organized by type and lethality.
Blades of every length and shape, from delicate stilettos to two-handed broadswords.
A glass-fronted cabinet displayed daggers emitting a faint glow of different colors.
The room smelled of metal and leather and the faint tang of magic—the scent of power.
Kazimir had spent more than a decade scheming his way toward Solandris.
The final push had come together in four breathless days of organized pandemonium—Griffin’s matrices exploding twice before stabilizing, nobles bickering over blood magic, and my husband reducing a quartermaster to tears over supply chain inefficiencies. But somehow, we were ready.
Tomorrow, we marched on Solandris.
I picked up another of the throwing knives Vex had given me for my birthday. The weight felt perfect in my hand, the blade balanced for someone of my size and strength. I’d been practicing for the past hour, and my aim was improving. The knives weren’t just beautiful; they were deadly efficient.
I felt a familiar shift in the air, like the atmosphere itself recognized his dominion.
“Not bad.”
I turned to see Kazimir leaning against the frame, arms crossed, watching me with that intensity that still made my stomach flip. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, as if he’d been running his hands through it—a habit when he was troubled. Now that it was longer, it looked even more chaotic.
“But my stance could use work, right?” I asked, twirling the knife between my fingers and expecting a critique.
“Your stance is perfect. You must have studied under the best.” He stepped into the room, his gaze sweeping over my battle leathers, which I’d laid out on a nearby table for inspection. “Planning for tomorrow?”
“Just making sure everything’s ready.” I threw the last knife—hitting dead center—and walked to retrieve the blades. Kaz leaned against the table behind me.
“I paid a visit to your father the other day.”
My hand stilled on one of the knives. “Oh?”
“He’s looking well-fed and miserable, as expected.” Kazimir’s tone was casual, but his eyes were watchful. “We should decide what to do with him before we leave.”
I yanked the last knife free. “I’ve been avoiding that particular decision.”
“I noticed.”
I returned to the table, laying the knives out in a neat row.
Kazimir had been giving me space to make a decision about my father, and I appreciated that more than I could say.
But he was right—it was time. Part of me wanted to storm down to the dungeons and force my father to look me in the eye while I demanded answers for every betrayal, every lie.
But another part—a growing part—just felt tired of giving him space in my head, in my heart.
“I think,” I started slowly, “I’m ready to move on from him. From what he represents.” I met Kazimir’s gaze. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t make use of him.”
A slow, appreciative smile spread across Kazimir’s face. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“You have an idea.”
“I always have ideas. It’s part of my villainous charm.” He moved closer, his voice dropping to that conspiratorial tone that never failed to send a shiver down my spine. Kazimir picked up one of my knives, testing its weight. “We could let him escape.”
I stared at him. “Um.”
He threw the knife without even looking at the target, landing a perfect shot in what would have been its left eye. Show-off.
“A carefully orchestrated escape this time,” he continued. “Or rather, make him believe he’s escaped because there’s no time for a real one. Feed him just enough information to make him valuable to Auremar—specifically, that I’ll be attacking east of the capital.”
Understanding dawned. “To make sure Auremar sends his remaining forces out to meet you before we get there.”
“Precisely.” Kazimir’s smile was all predator now. “Your father is desperate enough to curry favor with Auremar that he’ll deliver the information immediately, and prideful enough to believe he escaped on his own.”
I considered it, running a finger along the edge of one of the knives. I liked the idea of turning my father into nothing more than a pawn. “It could work. But what if he doesn’t go to Auremar?”
“Where else would he go? His estate is seized, his reputation in tatters. Auremar is his only potential ally now.” Kazimir moved closer, his fingers brushing mine as he picked up another knife. “Besides, we’ll have him followed.”
“By whom? Everyone’s coming with us.”
“Shadow warriors.” He threw the knife, hitting the target’s other eye.
I nodded slowly. “It’s a good plan. Better than letting him rot, which is what I was leaning toward.”
“Really? I thought you might want one last confrontation. To make him answer for your mother.”
A memory flickered through my mind—my mother’s laugh as she braided my hair. The sound was so clear, so real, I could almost believe she was in the room with us.
These fragments had been returning steadily since I took the potion, filling in gaps I hadn’t even known existed. Not the dramatic, painful memories of her death, but the quiet moments that had shaped me—her kindness, her strength, the way she’d loved me unconditionally.
The knowledge that I was loved, that I was worthy of love, had helped me understand my own heart better, including the feelings I’d been wrestling with regarding Kazimir.
The hesitation I’d felt about loving him—really loving him, not just desiring or needing him—had begun to dissolve as I remembered what real love looked like through my mother’s example.
The words I’d been struggling to say to Kazimir felt less terrifying now.
“No,” I said finally. “I don’t need anything more from my father. I know what happened now, and no explanation he could offer would change it or make it better.”
Kazimir studied me, his expression unreadable. “You’ve changed.”
“Is that a complaint?”
“An observation.” He moved closer, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face. “You seem lighter. Despite everything.”
I leaned into his touch. “The memories help. Not just the terrible ones, but the good ones too. Remembering who she was, who I was with her.”
“And who was that?”
I smiled. “Someone who wasn’t afraid to love.”
Something flickered in his eyes—uncertainty, perhaps, or longing. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual intensity.
“So we use Evenfall as bait,” he said, returning to the safer topic of strategy. “Let him think he’s escaped on his own, but make sure he overhears just enough to make him valuable to Auremar.”
“And then what? Once he’s served his purpose?”
Kazimir shrugged. “He stays with Auremar and goes down with that sinking ship, or he tries to run and gets caught in the cross fire. Auremar is likely to kill him once he gets the information, anyway.”
I nodded, turning back to my battle leathers.
The jerkin was reinforced with thin plates of enchanted metal between layers of supple leather, offering protection without sacrificing mobility.
The pants were similarly constructed, with additional padding at the knees and thighs.
All of it was dyed black to blend with shadows.
Kazimir ran his fingers over the intricate stitching. “I’d prefer you didn’t need these at all.”
I should tell him. The words burned in my throat. Three simple words that had become so complicated. My mother had loved freely, openly, and look where it had gotten her. But she’d also lived fully, without the regrets that came from silence.
We both spoke at the same time.
“Kaz, I—”
“If anything happens tomorrow—”
“Don’t.” I pressed my fingers to his lips. “We’re not doing deathbed confessions before the battle even starts. It’s bad luck.”
He caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Since when are you superstitious?”
“Since I married the Dark Lord and started fighting ancient evils.” I tried to keep my tone light, but my heart was pounding. Part of me wanted to tell him everything—that I loved him, that I’d never felt this way about anyone, that the thought of losing him terrified me more than any battle.
But maybe it wasn’t the time. Kazimir had been struggling with something these past few days.
I’d seen it in the tension around his eyes, heard it in the way he sometimes muttered to himself when he thought I wasn’t listening.
Whatever war he was fighting inside his head, I wasn’t sure if my declaration would help or hinder him.
And tomorrow, we needed him focused. We needed the ruthless, calculating Dark Lord who could outmaneuver Auremar and lead an army. My feelings could wait.
“Big day of villainy tomorrow,” I said instead.
Kazimir nodded, but his eyes lingered on my face as if searching for something. “Right. I’ll arrange for Evenfall’s ‘escape’—”
“—and then let’s go scandalize the staff one more time before we save the world.”
As we left the armory, I cast one last look at the throwing knives arranged on the table. Tomorrow, I’d be using them for real. And maybe, if we survived, I’d find the courage to tell Kazimir what he meant to me.