Page 14 of The Nightmare Bride

T hat afternoon, in the open-sided cupola on the roof, I sweltered over a basket of mending. Amryssa sat on the far bench, staring out over the marsh. Her lips moved, though her words failed to carry on the muggy air.

Kyven lounged beside me. In a concession to the heat, he’d foregone a waistcoat and rolled his sleeves to the elbow. Rather than expressing anger over my duplicity, he’d spent the day studying me with open interest.

And...shit. I was studying him back. Again.

Who knew why, because I hated his face. Everything about it annoyed me, from the squared vee of his chin to the taper of his nose.

Even his hair made me angry. It fell across his forehead as if he’d planned it that way, which he probably actually had, the narcissist. The longest, shiniest lock just kissed the arch of his brow, and I couldn’t help but notice the chestnut hues matched exactly, unlike most people, whose hair and eyebrows differed by a shade or two.

I forced my attention back to my mending. What entitled him to stare like that? Creep.

“For someone who just vaulted from lady’s maid to princess,” he said, “you look remarkably unhappy. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you find your new husband lacking.”

My mouth twisted as I jabbed the needle in with unnecessary force. “You’re not my husband.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” Amusement and that stupid, snobbish accent molded his words into a taunt. “I distinctly remember becoming so last night.”

“Fine. Maybe you are, for now. But you won’t stay my husband for long.”

I’d told him about the annulment the moment I’d found him—not in Amryssa’s room, as I’d dreaded, but at the breakfast table, working through an assembly line of piled-high plates with his attendants.

Just before walking in, I could’ve sworn I’d caught hissed words in an Oceansgate accent, but Vick had given me a narrow-eyed look upon entry, and I’d paused.

All three men were from Hightower, weren’t they?

I must have imagined it.

Now Kyven propped his elbows on his knees and gave me a casual once-over. We were effectively alone—his attendants had disappeared to Zephyrine-knew-where, and Amryssa may as well have ascended to another plane.

“How long will this annulment business take, again?” he said.

“Two months, roughly.” Stitch, stitch. “Less, if we’re lucky.”

“Lucky?” He chuckled. “You almost sound as if you mean that.”

I gave him a withering look, which he endured without appearing to suffer any ill effects. “This might come as a shock,” I said, “but I don’t want to be married to you a second longer than I have to. This whole thing was a mistake.”

“Hmm.” Sparks flew in those skylit eyes. “And yet you didn’t seem to think so last night, when you were making that delightful little whimper and inviting me to do my worst.”

I spluttered. Something red and angry swarmed beneath my skin.

“Oh, don’t look so apoplectic, I’m only joking. And I do have one honest question.”

“Which is?” The words hissed from me like steam jetting from a teakettle.

“How much did the seneschal offer you? To annul our marriage?”

I paused my sewing and waited for the punchline, but not a single one of those chestnut lashes flickered. “Nothing. He didn’t offer me anything. Why would he have?”

“Well, you’re a princess now. You wouldn’t just...sign that away.”

I tensed. “Is that what you think this was about?”

“Well, why else would you have married me?”

I flung the mending into its basket so I wouldn’t accidentally shove the needle into my thumb.

Or his eye. Zephyrine help me, how would I refrain from stabbing this donkey’s ass for two whole months?

“I already told you. I married you because I didn’t want you touching Amryssa.

That was the beginning and end of it for me. ”

He made a tsk ing sound. “Come, now. No one would throw themselves into the teeth of an unwanted marriage just to protect a friend.”

“They absolutely would.” I spat the words like gravel. “Not that you’d actually understand that. You’ve probably never sworn loyalty to anything other than your own reflection.”

His chin dipped. “You have to admit, it does inspire a certain sense of devotion.”

I gaped, wordless. If I’d had any skill at drawing, I would’ve marched downstairs to the library, pulled the dictionary from its shelf, and sketched in Kyven’s portrait beside the entry for ‘arrogance.’ Maybe the one for ‘delusional,’ too.

“You wouldn’t have gone to all that effort,” he continued, “then changed your mind without an incentive.”

I slitted my gaze, but...fine, he did actually have a point. I just didn’t know how to counter it. How much did he understand about his father’s motives in sending him here?

I decided to chance something close to the truth. “I just hadn’t realized Amryssa...and you...would have a place in Hightower, after the wedding. That’s what made me reconsider.”

Apparently, that didn’t set off any alarm bells, because Kyven sighed, a light exhale that failed to stir the heavy air.

“Fine, then, don’t tell me. I suppose it doesn’t matter, anyway.

Once we sign the annulment, you can gallop off into the sunset with your newfound riches and try to forget I exist. Not that I expect you’ll have much luck. ”

I flattened my brows, unwilling to dignify that with a response. Who cared if he believed me, anyway? “So you’ll marry Amryssa, then? After the annulment?”

His attention arced toward my best friend, his expression softening with the same tenderness he’d faked at breakfast yesterday.

Except...goddess, it didn’t look fake. Somehow, Kyven had mastered even the smallest tells—his posture loosened and his mouth curved. He looked, for all the world, like a man surveying something fragile. Something he’d rather preserve than break.

I swatted at the errant thoughts. Maybe I couldn’t distinguish performance from reality, but that didn’t mean Kyven wasn’t a monster. Eliana had said so. Olivian, too.

It didn’t matter how convincing a show he put on.

“I did come here to marry.” The prince’s gaze swung back to mine, his attention like a boomerang that kept returning to me.

“So...that’s a yes?”

“I suppose it’ll depend on what’s in it for me.”

“What’s in it for you?” My lip curled. “Wow. How very noble of you.”

He smirked. “I’m a prince. I’m noble by definition. I don’t have to actually try .”

I swore under my breath. At least his arrogance made him easy to hate. “Don’t you ever tire of hearing yourself talk?”

He laughed. “No, never. Do you ever tire of giving people the sharp side of your tongue?”

“No. I like my tongue the way it is, thanks.”

“Mmm-hmm.” His attention dropped to my mouth.

Heat climbed the nape of my neck, and I pulled at my collar.

Goddess, I hated summers in Oceansgate. There was no escaping this muggy broil.

“When you say there’s something in it for you,” I said, taking back control of the conversation, “what do you mean? Did your father...offer you something? To marry?”

Kyven’s focus flicked back up to my eyes, which should have come as a relief but didn’t. Who actually had irises that blue? And who looked at people that unwaveringly?

Someone needed to pass legislation against this sort of thing.

“Are we trading secrets, now?” He leaned in.

I fought the urge to retreat. “No. I don’t keep any, anyway.”

“Oh, I doubt that . Everyone has secrets.”

My eyes narrowed. “Everyone? Including...you?”

A lazy smile lifted his mouth. “Especially me.”

A shudder danced down my spine. Little did he realize I knew all about his private sins. His secrets had arrived before he had, and now I kept them in my armoire drawer, not five paces from where he’d slept last night.

“But I don’t feel like sharing unless you do,” he said. “So why not tell me what the seneschal’s paying you?”

“I already said,” I hissed. “Nothing. Now why’d you come? You don’t need another title, much less a territory. So what’re you hoping to gain here?”

Kyven glanced to Amryssa again. She’d now extended a finger to serve as a perch for a gargantuan purple butterfly—the wretched thing had three wings that shivered and flexed as she murmured to it.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said, again with that hint of softness.

Fake softness, clearly. “Try me.”

“Try you? I tried with you last night. At which point you made it abundantly clear that you’d rather I hadn’t.”

My pulse kicked. I groped for my dagger, tried my utmost not to stab him, and only barely succeeded.

“And on the subject of motivations,” he continued, “what does it matter whether I marry her? If you can’t keep your new title, money’s the next best thing, and Olivian must’ve offered you plenty. So what do you care what happens after the annulment?”

I mashed my lips together, but he didn’t warrant the effort of lying. “I care because Amryssa can’t stay here. She has to go to Hightower.”

“Ah.” The wrinkle between his eyes smoothed away. “You mean to accompany her, then? Perform a heroic act of self-sacrifice by living in luxury with her in the capital?”

I gritted my teeth so hard my molars creaked.

Goddess, this fucker was giving me the mother of all headaches.

“You know what? You’re wasting my breath.

Just marry her when the time comes, okay?

” Because in the end, it didn’t matter what Kyven hoped to find here.

He only needed to live long enough to make Amryssa a princess.

“Oh, I don’t know that it’s that simple.” He rubbed at his jaw. “Now that I’ve met her, I don’t exactly trust her ability to refuse.”

I paused, my brows pinching. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, last night, I gave you a choice. But look at her. How’s a man supposed to marry a girl like that? Much less bed her? It...wouldn’t be right.”