Page 1 of The Nightmare Bride

T he night before Amryssa’s wedding, I readied her for bed as usual. Her groom hadn’t yet arrived, but already, dread clamped my lungs in a vise. He would come. By this time tomorrow, another monster would stalk the halls of this old house, and I...

Well, I would have to do something about that. About him .

I tried to escape that awareness by bustling from one task to the next. I lowered the wick on Amryssa’s bedside oil lamp. Draped her nightgown across the foot of her bed. My movements flowed with the ease of familiarity, but tonight, even the careworn rituals failed to soothe me.

This knot in my belly had been tightening for months, ever since Amryssa’s father had agreed to marry her off to Elara’s youngest prince. To worsen matters, Prince Kyven would stay with us after the wedding. He’d live here.

A wave of nausea swelled in my throat.

“Harlowe.”

I yanked my gaze up. Over near the open window, Amryssa scanned the sky with pale eyes.

“What?” I said, unnerved by her tone. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a nightmare,” she murmured. “Heading this way.”

I tensed, wanting to doubt her, but my best friend never joked. About anything. “ Another one? But we just had one last week.”

Amryssa didn’t respond, but she didn’t have to—a breeze billowed in, ruffling her skirts, drenching the room with the sticky brine of the sea. A whiff of fire, like burnt parchment, rode the edges of the gust. That distinctive smell turned a thousand screws inside my guts.

“Shit,” I muttered.

“It’s a bad one, too,” Amryssa said.

My hand flew to the dagger sheathed at my waist. The weapon wouldn’t protect me against a nightmare, but the feel of the antler hilt steadied me, anyway. “How far off?”

Amryssa studied the sky. Sickly violet light glinted on her cheekbones, hinting at what massed in the sky above the moss-draped trees. Long seconds passed without an answer.

“ Amryssa .”

She blinked. “Hmm?”

I sighed. Her mind had clearly wandered. Again. “How much time do we have?”

“Oh. Twenty minutes, perhaps.”

Twenty... Damn. So close, already? Why hadn’t anyone sounded the bells?

I tossed her nightgown aside and arrowed toward the window. Against the cracked and weather-beaten frame, Amryssa looked almost ethereal tonight—a fragile, albino flower amidst this sea of faded finery. Her bone-white curls frothed on the breeze.

“Come on.” I took her by the shoulders. “Let’s get you ready.”

Her gaze didn’t stray from the sky. “But...I don’t suppose you’d let me go outside?”

My mouth twisted. Always the same question, with her. “No, Am. You know how that’d end.”

“Right. But...what about the prince? Has he arrived yet?”

I grimaced. Fuck the prince. More importantly, fuck the forest, with its twisted purple trees and their putrid purple glow and the bullshit purple weather they produced.

I was sick of it, though more for Amryssa’s sake than my own.

Within the hour, she’d be screaming more loudly than I would, and gods help me, how I hated hearing her misery.

“No sign of your fiancé yet,” I told her.

“Shouldn’t we wait, then? Make sure he gets to safety?”

“And risk ourselves? For him ? I’d rather chew on nails.” I steered her from the window, then yanked the shutters closed without glancing out. No need to witness the coming carnage for myself. Already, fear coated my throat, thick and sour.

“But what if he gets caught out in the nightmare?” Amryssa said.

My fingers paused on the shutter-latch as a spark of hope flared beneath my ribs. “Then Zephyrine will have answered her first prayer in nine years.”

That was the thing about living in the only territory in Elara whose patron deity had fallen asleep—no divine ears heard our pleas. No godly caretaker granted our most fervent wishes. Here in Oceansgate, we were on our own.

But since our slumbering goddess, Zephyrine, also dreamed these nightmares into existence, the prince getting overtaken by one might actually count as divine intervention. Unintentional divine intervention, but whatever.

I’d take what I could get.

“Whose prayer?” Amryssa’s voice shrank. “You haven’t wished my fiancé dead, have you?”

I snorted. “I’ve wished lots of people dead.

Especially hateful princes who marry seneschal’s daughters against their will.

” I rammed the shutter-bolt home, then locked it with the keyring from my skirt pocket.

There. If Amryssa somehow got loose during the nightmare, she wouldn’t be able to swan dive from the tower window.

When I turned, she regarded me with stricken eyes. Their color was so unearthly—not quite green, not quite gray, but some pale in-between, like tidepool water captured in two porcelain bowls. That look seemed to demand something of me—to be softer, maybe? Kinder, like other women?

Well, she’d have to hold her breath on that one.

“We don’t know that Kyven’s hateful,” Amryssa said. “Not when we haven’t met him.”

A retort swelled in my throat, quickly smothered.

I knew precisely how awful he was, though I hadn’t shared that with her just yet.

Maybe I’d never have to. With any luck, the nightmare would catch the prince on the road.

He was coming from Elara’s distant capital, miles and miles away, and had probably never been to our swampy, out-of-the-way backwater before.

The tiny territory of Oceansgate dangled into the sea from the toe of the continent, so even if Prince Kyven had heard of our unique weather—discussed it from the safety of some palatial dining room in Hightower, maybe—he wouldn’t understand the true power of a nightmare.

Or how to survive one.

Which might just spare me from having to sink my blade into his heart. For weeks, I’d sifted through options, only to circle back to one conclusion.

Amryssa’s groom would have to die. The only question was when. Should I kill him before the vows? After, at the nuptial feast? Maybe in their chamber, before he coerced her in the marriage bed?

I hadn’t decided yet, but now a new possibility massed in the sky outside. One that might save me from spending my remaining years in a dank prison cell.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Amryssa blew out a breath, clearly having had her fill of my murderous intentions, and padded over to the four-poster. I freed her of her dress, then sheathed her insubstantial frame with the nightgown I’d laid out.

My attention snagged on a rip in the gown’s collar, but mending would have to wait. I’d stitch it tomorrow, once I recovered.

As Amryssa laid atop her threadbare sheets, as the nightmare boomed outside.

I paused to breathe through the resulting dizziness, then hurried to her armoire, where the bottom drawer yielded at a touch—one of the only things in this rambling house that didn’t squeak or stick, the hinges having been oiled to perfection.

I dug for Amryssa’s manacles. Metal clanked as I carried the restraints to the bed.

She offered her arm, and I snapped a cuff around one dainty wrist. Outside, the nightmare growled again, rattling the walls, probing for cracks in my composure.

Its bellowing reminded me of a dying animal, overlaid with a rustle of dark wings, like that last, futile warning before sharpened talons pierced your flesh and sank into your heart.

Amryssa whimpered. “Maybe if you’d let me go outside, I?—”

“No.” Steel girded my voice.

“But—”

“ No .” I snapped a manacle around her other wrist.

She averted her face in defeat.

My stomach soured. Normally, I never denied her, but whatever screws had come loose in Amryssa’s mind confused her. Unlike other people, she longed to flee into the arms of the approaching horror, not away.

As the house’s resident keymistress, I made sure she didn’t.

That comprised my entire purpose here—a purpose that would soon fall to someone else, once the prince showed up.

I only hoped Amryssa’s father would find someone worthy to bequeath my dagger to once I committed regicide and got myself taken away in irons.

But even if he didn’t, at least I’d go knowing Amryssa would never suffer Prince Kyven’s punishing touch.

I hurried around the bed, restraining her ankles, then unwinding her bedpost chains and clipping each one to a manacle. Once I’d fastened everything tight, I turned the crank to take the slack out of the chains.

When I finished, Amryssa lay spread-eagled but secure. She gazed at the shutters with longing, as if the storm-tossed marsh outside might offer more safety than this tattered haven of mahogany and silk. “If the prince is out there, might he make it through?”

I laughed with savage humor. “Not a chance.”

Moisture welled in Amryssa’s eyes. Apparently, she couldn’t stand the thought of anything suffering, even a creature as vile as Elara’s youngest prince. “Surely there’s a chance . What about the brigands in the woods? They endure the nightmares without?—”

“That’s a myth, Am. They chain up like everyone else. No one can withstand a nightmare’s power.”

“But Kyven could die out there.” A tear slipped from between her lashes. “I might not want to marry him, but I’d never wish him harm.”

“I know.” I brushed at her tear, my fingertips lingering. Gods help me, she was so pure. So noble , and not because she’d someday succeed her father as seneschal, or because her family had governed Oceansgate for generations, or any of that nonsense.

Some people were just born better than the rest of us.

But I didn’t have time to stand around thinking about it, so I dried my fingers on my skirts and arranged Amryssa’s coverlet. The fabric tented weirdly over her chains, but it would have to do.

Still, I hung back before leaving. What if, once I scraped myself together tomorrow, I returned to find a dried-out husk in this bed? What if this frail, beautiful, scrap of a person couldn’t weather the coming ordeal?

“Go.” Anxiety thickened Amryssa’s voice, though she didn’t worry for herself, I knew. She only ever put others first, whether they deserved it or not. “Sound the alarm. Kyven might be close enough to hear.”

I hesitated. Time already ran short, but...I couldn’t abandon her like this.

“Hey.” I sat, my body denting the mattress while Amryssa’s merely floated atop it. “I’m sure your groom’ll be fine. He’s probably coming up the road as we speak.”

Or not. I hoped he was miles away. I hoped he died screaming.

“In which case I’ll have to marry him.” Amryssa’s voice quavered. “Tomorrow.”

“Well...yes.”

“Which frightens me, Harlowe. What husbands expect of their wives, it’s...” A shudder rippled through her, one I knew had nothing to do with the nightmare bearing down on us. “I find it difficult to think about. Much less desire.”

“I know.” I brushed a white tendril back from her brow. “Which is why I’d spare you, if I could. I’d marry Kyven myself, if it meant you wouldn’t have to.”

She managed a watery smile. “Would you really?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Then I could be your keymistress. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

I echoed her smile. Marrying the prince would be the exact opposite of nice, but it would get me close enough to slide my dagger between his ribs. Which I’d find a way to do, regardless. This bullshit arrangement Olivian had entered into on his daughter’s behalf would never see fruition.

But I couldn’t reassure Amryssa of that. She’d only try to stop me.

Precious seconds died one after the next. The nightmare rumbled, close enough now that its sinister energy leached in through the shutter-gaps. The candlelight took on a hissing quality.

“You have to go,” Amryssa pleaded. “Sound the alarm. If not for the prince’s sake, then for the townspeople’s.”

I sighed, not the least bit put out by risking hundreds of lives in order to caress her cheek one last time. The people of Oceansgate could look after themselves. Or perish, for all I cared, and take their dagger-sharp stares with them. Those, and the whispers of witch, witch, witch .

I really didn’t give a shit.

But I did have to get myself to safety, so I rose and kissed Amryssa’s forehead. “I’ll be back when it’s over. Once I can stand. All right?”

She nodded.

I made for the door. I would have just enough time to sound the bells at the house’s far end before scuttling back to my chamber, which neighbored this one. By now, I could chain myself in a minute flat.

“Harlowe?”

I paused, my hand on the knob. “Yes?”

“The storm, it...calls to me.” Amryssa closed her eyes, sealing herself into some private darkness. Her thin chest heaved under her thinner nightgown. “It tells me to go outside. To let it overtake me. Call me home.”

Outside, thunder boomed. The chamber flexed and contracted; Amryssa’s words seemed to stagger toward me from across a handful of miles.

Nausea threatened, but I willed it down. “That isn’t real, Am. Nothing that’s about to happen is. It’s just the nightmare, twisting your mind. Tricking you.”

“Right,” she said faintly. “You’re...right. Of course.”

I hovered on the threshold, hating myself for doing this to her.

I could have unlocked her restraints. Tossed them aside.

I wanted to. But anyone who wandered out into a nightmare would never do it twice.

The storm would invade their mind, showing them imagined horrors, turning their darkest fears against them.

They’d be driven to end that misery any way they could—whether by jumping from a tower window or clawing out their own heart.

Not the kind of thing anyone came back from.

No, my job was to keep Amryssa safe, so my hand rose to the dagger at my waist, seeking its reassuring hum of magic. If I concentrated, I could make out its whispered words. Protect, protect, protect . Guard her where she belongs.

I squeezed the dagger in acknowledgment. I would protect. After all, Amryssa had done the same for me, once. She’d saved my life when not a single soul had cared if I’d lived or died. She’d risked herself and asked nothing in return.

Outside, thunder cracked. The buzz in my blood reached a fever pitch, spilling over into a tight smile.

“I love you,” I said, knowing I’d do anything for her. Lie, cheat, steal. Lock her up. Whatever it took. “And I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”

Her smile was tremulous. “I love you, too. Always.”

“Then I’ll see you when it’s over, okay?”

“When it’s over,” she agreed.

At that, I turned away, and locked her door behind me.