Page 12 of The Nightmare Bride

O livian’s voice snatched me from sleep. “She did what ?”

I peeled my eyes open. The wall between my chamber and Amryssa’s muffled Olivian’s shouts, but there was no mistake—the seneschal was in his daughter’s room, and he was pissed .

“That conniving little cheat,” he bellowed. “I’ll kill her!”

I clambered upright. A glance confirmed Kyven was still lost to the depths of slumber and hadn’t tried to kill me last night, but I’d sort out the meaning of that later. Right now, Amryssa needed me.

I flung my blanket aside and dashed into the hall. Why hadn’t I remembered Olivian had a key to her room? Why hadn’t I anticipated this?

I burst in to find the seneschal pacing at the foot of Amryssa’s bed. She sat amid the tangled sheets, her eyes like gray glass orbs in a bloodless face.

“Don’t yell at her,” I blurted. “This was my idea, not hers.”

“Oh, was it?” Olivian rounded on me, spittle flying. “Why does that not surprise me, Your Highness ?”

I backpedaled a step. Your Highness . Huh. I...hadn’t actually considered that.

“Well?” he roared. “Is that how I should address you now?”

I groped for my dagger, then winced. Shit. I’d left it in my room.

Ah, well. No way out but through. I snapped steel into my spine, since apparently, I now outranked Olivian—all ninety-nine seneschals in Elara answered to the monarchy. “I guess you should.”

He snarled. “Because you married the prince last night, not Amryssa?”

“Looks like.”

“And what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Um. Oops?”

Olivian’s glare turned murderous. His fingers flexed, practically glowing with the need to strangle me. “And just what on earth possessed you, girl? What in seven hells were you trying to accomplish?”

I flashed my teeth. “After reading Eliana’s letter, you really have to ask?”

He started toward me, violence in his eyes.

I dug my heels in, even while I wondered if I should run. What was I going to do, fight him bare-handed?

Thankfully, Olivian stopped mid-stride, his attention shifting past my shoulder. I turned, expecting empty space, or maybe a particularly provocative torchier, but a bare-chested prince filled the doorway instead, his breeches slung low on carven hips. A sleepy smile clung to Kyven’s lips.

He looked...gorgeous, so much that yesterday’s hate came crashing back like a punch to the gut. Then I saw what he held.

My dagger.

He offered me the weapon, hilt first. I snatched it, my loathing muddling to something indefinable.

“I figured you’d want that.” Kyven winked. “Seeing as how someone in this room sounds very cranky, indeed.”

For long moments, no one spoke. Olivian used the silence to smooth the rigid cast of his shoulders. “Ahem. Your Highness.”

“Seneschal.” Kyven’s smile played at a smirk. “Good morning. I’m prepared to accept congratulations at any time.”

“I’d offer them,” Olivian said tightly. “But it seems there’s been some...confusion.”

“Ah, yes.” Kyven eyed me. “For which I apologized last night. Though I can do it again, if your daughter would like.”

“Not that ,” I whisper-hissed.

Olivian’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t pursue the subject, thank Zephyrine. “Your Highness, it’s only...I have to be sure. Which of these women did you marry last night?”

Kyven’s brows rose. He glanced from me to Amryssa and back again. “Which of these women? Surely you’re joking?”

“No.” Olivian’s patience was already fraying. “Who was it?”

“Well, if you’d attended your own daughter’s wedding, you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

At Olivian’s glower, Kyven relented, though he was very clearly enjoying himself.

“Why, her, of course.” He gestured to me. “The Lady Amryssa.”

The seneschal spat a gravelly curse. “Except that’s not the Lady Amryssa. That is.” He pointed at the bed.

The evergreen smile dropped from Kyven’s face. “The... What? No. That can’t possibly be your daughter. She looks nothing like you.”

“I think I’d know my own child.”

Kyven studied Amryssa, dubious. “Is she even old enough to marry?”

“At twenty-seven,” Olivian growled, “I’d say it’s past time.”

The prince absorbed that, then turned to me, bewildered.

I inhaled until my lungs threatened to burst. Maybe this would be the spark that finally lit the fire. Kyven’s false cheer would burn away, and I’d unmask the monster, right here in front of everyone.

“Is this true?” he said.

I cleared my throat. “It...is.”

“But...if that’s the Lady Amryssa, then who’re you?”

“The keymistress!” Olivian boomed, his control snapping. “You didn’t marry my daughter, you married her fucking handmaid!”

Kyven’s gaze widened. He looked me up and down as if seeing me for the first time. “You mean you’re the keymistress?”

I raised my chin. “I...am.”

“And you married me under false pretenses?”

“I did.”

“But... why ?”

A glance at Amryssa granted me strength. “Because. I didn’t want you touching her.”

“Lioness,” Kyven breathed, then spent a mile-long minute just staring. “I’m...speechless. I think I’m also rather impressed.”

I opened my mouth, readying a defense, then realized I didn’t need one and floundered in silence. Well, this wasn’t going as expected. At all.

“Enough dithering,” Olivian shouted. “Just tell me this can be undone.”

I flinched. “Undone?”

“Yes. As in, tell me you didn’t consummate this.”

I stilled. The consummation. Shit. Like the ceremonial kiss, I hadn’t thought that through.

“Well?” Olivian said.

Kyven watched me without blinking. In the silence, the floor tilted, the whole world awaiting my answer.

I had the strangest sense that if I lied, my new husband would corroborate me.

But that was probably crazy, and besides, lying wouldn’t do me any favors.

This marriage had to bear up under scrutiny.

If not, Olivian would only force a repeat ceremony with Amryssa.

No, I needed an honest solution. Or, at the very least, a way to buy time. “We didn’t consummate anything,” I said. Then, for good measure, “Don’t be vile.”

Kyven pressed a hand to his chest. “Ouch. You really are a deathblow to my ego.”

Olivian released a breath. “Thank Zephyrine. Now come with me.” A meaty hand circled my arm as he towed me toward the door.

“Hey.” I pitted my weight against his, but I might as well have tried to topple a centuries-old oak. “Let go of me.”

He dragged me into the hallway without slowing.

“Where’re we going?” I shrieked.

“To my office, so you can write to the king. You’ll accept the entirety of the blame for this, then petition him for an annulment.”

“An annulment?” I cried. “What? You can’t do that.”

“I can’t, you’re right. But the king can. An unconsummated union can still be dissolved, as long as he grants an annulment and the two of you sign the certificate.”

Ice hardened in the pit of my stomach. “But...what if I refuse?”

Olivian’s gaze thinned—a threat. “You won’t.”

“Okay, well...what if Kyven does?”

His withering look conveyed exactly how likely he considered that prospect. “He’s a prince. Who just married a glorified housemaid. I doubt he’ll have a problem.”

I barely refrained from flipping him off. “So that’s it? I go to all this trouble to save Amryssa, and you want to throw her to the wolves?”

He bared his teeth. Down the hall, an approaching steward spotted us and abruptly reversed direction. I imagined how we must look—Olivian in a towering rage, me clutching my dagger while being hauled along in my nightgown.

Business as usual, really.

I tried and failed to regain control of my arm. “Let. Go. I’ll come with you, just stop manhandling me.”

“Fine.” The seneschal released me without breaking stride. “But if you run, I swear to Zephyrine I’ll haul you downstairs by your hair.”

The moment he turned his back, I gave him the finger. Immature? Yes. Satisfying? Also yes.

In Olivian’s study on the second floor, he collapsed behind his desk and glared. “You have no idea how thoroughly you’ve fucked this up.”

I crossed my arms and glared right back. Sitting would’ve put me at eye level with him, so I didn’t. “I’d actually say I actually have a pretty good idea, since that was the entire point.”

“Oh? And was the point also to ruin Amryssa’s chance at leaving Oceansgate?”

“Her chance at...wait, what?” I squinted, wondering if I’d heard him correctly.

“Leaving!” He slapped an open palm on the desk.

“Do you think I actually want her here, suffering nightmare after nightmare? Do you think I wouldn’t have sent her to Hightower ages ago, if I could have?

Do you think I haven’t been trying to arrange a safe place for her for years , and now you have the audacity to destroy that for her, you ungrateful, conniving wretch? ”

Blood drained from my cheeks. My knees gave out, dumping me hard into an armchair.

“I should wring your meddling neck,” he continued, the words hateful and hot.

I sat there, immobilized by the idea that he might actually care . “I don’t... But...you never said that. You never told me you wanted better for her.”

“What do you think this was all about?” he roared, then reined himself in, fisting his eyes and dragging in a breath.

When Olivian looked up again, he’d achieved a sliver of calm, however tenuous. “I had an agreement,” he said. “With the king.”

“Yes,” I said faintly. “For new lawmen. You said.”

“But that was only part of it. An insignificant part. The rest involved Amryssa having a place in the capital, once she was wed. She would’ve been a princess.

Eligible to be cared for in Hightower. She would’ve had the kind of life I can’t afford to buy for her in any other way, because our coffers are empty , Harlowe.

Bled dry. It’s cost me everything we had to keep Oceansgate afloat these nine years. ”

My mouth opened. Closed again.

The seneschal planted his elbows on the desk. “If not for you, Amryssa would’ve had a home. A safe one.”

I absorbed that. “But...this is her home. She and Kyven were supposed to live here after the wedding.”