Page 15 of The Nightmare Bride

I chewed on that. Thinking about them... entwined made me want to shove him off the roof, but I didn’t plan on letting it go that far. I’d get rid of him right after the vows. “I’m sure you can manage. You married me without any trouble.”

“You asked me to.”

“Okay. But you had no problem trying to”—I swallowed against a dry throat—“ bed me.”

His eyelids lowered. “And I would’ve kept you up all night, lioness, if you’d let me. Trust me on that.”

Queasiness rolled through me, lifting my stomach and dropping it again. Shit. Why had I eaten that extra biscuit with breakfast? It wasn’t sitting right.

“But I’ve always preferred my women spirited. The Lady Amryssa doesn’t appear to have heard the word.”

I frowned. “She’s stronger than you think.”

“She looks like a stiff breeze would carry her off.”

“You’re underestimating her.” My tone heated, as if I could pour enough acid into my voice to scald him.

“Not that you care, or even deserve to hear it, but any man would be lucky to call her ‘wife.’ Amryssa’s better than anyone I’ve ever met.

She’s generous. Self-sacrificing. She’d take an arrow for anyone without even thinking, whether they deserved it or not.

And I don’t know about you, but that kind of selflessness isn’t something I come across every day.

Maybe not ever again. Which makes her worthy of respect.

She’s the most unselfish person I know, and I wouldn’t have married you for anyone else’s sake. ”

He fell silent. Something in his eyes changed—a subtle clearing of space, almost, like clouds parting, or a crowd thinning to reveal someone I hadn’t expected. Someone who now considered me with interest, as if I were a puzzle in need of solving.

“I think you might actually mean that,” he mused.

“I mean it with all my heart.”

“Hmm.”

That was all he said. But the force of his attention coaxed goosebumps from my arms, despite the heat.

I cleared my throat with enough vigor to throw off the sensation. “Don’t tell me you’ve never met someone deserving of loyalty.”

“Never. In my experience, no such thing exists. Most people are unforgivably selfish. Myself included.”

I hesitated. Well, we agreed on one thing, at least. “That’s my point, though.

Most people are selfish. So when you find one who isn’t, the last thing you should do is pass them by.

It’s better to give yourself to them. Humble yourself.

Because they might be the only person to ever deserve that, and if you miss your chance, you might never get another. ”

“I...see.” Kyven contemplated his palms for a moment, then glanced up through his lashes. “And are you such a person? The kind I ought to give myself to?”

“No.” I scooted back an inch. “Gods, no. What?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Well, you would have me believe you acted out of selflessness last night. That your friend’s well-being concerned you more than a title.

In your own words, you married me to protect her, which would make you one of those exceptionally rare altruists you just spoke of.

The kind I should humble myself before. Right? ”

My lungs sucked at the brackish air as I tried to parse the dexterity with which he’d turned my argument against me. What he said sounded like it made sense, and yet I hadn’t meant that at all.

“No. You’re...getting it backwards.”

“Am I?” The question was mild, but his attention never wavered. That rapier gaze threatened to cut away the bramble of my defenses and leave me with...well, who knew.

Seven hells, I’d wished and wished for him to dispense with those ridiculous half smiles, but now that he had, I wanted them back. Desperately. The way he scrutinized me twisted my insides into configurations I didn’t recognize.

“I didn’t mean anything like what you just said,” I managed. “I’m not anyone special. I’m no one at all, really. Just a girl who found someone to believe in, in a place where everyone’s forced to embrace the worst of themselves.”

“But not you? You resist your baser instincts?”

I considered. “Only because I have the luxury of being able to. If Amryssa hadn’t given me this life, I wouldn’t have the option.”

He inched closer, infiltrating my personal space with the scent of bracken and brine. His eyes were like wintry lances, aimed at my heart.

My breathing stalled. This was...different. A glimpse beneath the mask, only I didn’t see a monster there, but someone quick-witted and inquisitive and...engaged.

“So you’re grateful for what you have,” he said.

I forced air through a parched throat. “Very.”

“And loyal. To a fault, it would seem.”

“I try.”

“So loyal, in fact, that even though Olivian offered you nothing, you agreed to forfeit your new title simply so Amryssa could have a better life.”

My nerves sizzled. Gods among us, why wouldn’t he just blink ? “Not that it matters, but yes.”

“And you consider that normal. Just par for the course. You think you’re no one of consequence.”

“I know I’m not.”

Long moments spun by. Kyven reached out and, when I froze, tucked my hair behind my ear. I shivered. Something about the gesture felt horrifyingly intimate. The brush of his fingers carried an impossible weight, one that made my heartbeat climb into my throat.

I angled away, trying to calm my reaction.

He dropped his hand and blinked, sobered by my retreat. “Apologies. Your hair was blowing around.”

I had no idea what to say. There was no breeze to speak of. Just a ripe, waiting stillness, so thick I could taste it.

He cleared his throat, then rose and strolled away to lean against a pillar. Sweat glued his shirt to his back, accentuating the twin columns of muscle flanking his spine.

I stayed on the bench, trying to piece together my shattered composure. What the fuck had just happened? Just when I’d found my footing with him—a hatred I could safely burrow into—he’d knocked me off-kilter again.

“Harlowe?”

I jolted. It was the first time he’d said my name, and the syllables sounded so foreign in his mouth, the vowels robust, the r softened almost to nonexistence. “What?”

“What’re they doing down there?”

“Who?”

“Those men.”

I smoothed my skirts—and my breathing with them—and went to stand beside him.

A duty , I reminded myself. That was all this was. I would tolerate this awful, beautiful, monstrous prince for a bit, then marry him to Amryssa and widow her. Logical, concrete steps I should have no trouble taking.

Steps I would have no trouble taking.

I scanned the lawn with shaded eyes. Below, Merron and the stewards milled at the edge, where the grass gave way to a feral purple tangle. In the swamp, cypress roots jutted from the water like beckoning fingers, inviting the unsuspecting into Zephyrine’s corrupted domain.

The men fanned out, armed with shovels and torches. Some dug a trench in the grass while others burnt the outer perimeter. Their combined efforts produced a barren brown line in the earth. “They’re containing the spread,” I said.

“The what?”

I glanced sidelong, but Kyven’s gaze was as open and cloudless as if the moment on the bench had never happened.

“The spread,” I said, steadier this time. “Of the rot.”

“The rot?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story, but...maybe you’ve heard of our patron goddess? Zephyrine?”

His mouth tilted. “I’m from Hightower, lioness. Not the underside of a rock.”

I rolled my eyes. Yep, I’d definitely enjoy stabbing him, when the time came.

“Okay, so you might’ve heard of Zephyrine, but what you probably don’t know is that nine years ago, she fell asleep.

Or was cursed with some kind of divine slumber.

Or...well, nobody knows, really. What happened.

But she stopped answering prayers, and started dreaming these awful nightmares, and without her around, the marsh got sick.

Just in the middle, first, where Zephyrine sleeps inside her thousand-year-old tree.

But the rot’s crept outward ever since. The only way to stop it is to burn it, so that’s what we do, because any plants or animals affected turn poisonous.

Humans aren’t susceptible, but if we don’t protect our gardens and coops and goats, we’ll have nothing to eat. ”

“Hmm. That doesn’t sound so tragic.”

“No?” I scoffed. “Big words for someone who ate his own weight in bacon this morning.”

“Come, now. I’m not forgoing my rights to a lavish breakfast. I just mean that everyone acted so doom-and-gloom after the nightmare yesterday. So why not just leave? Go elsewhere?”

“And do what?” I crossed my arms. “Beg someone to take us in? No, thanks.”

“You wouldn’t have to beg. You’re rich.”

Oh, great. He was no different than the rest of them. “We’re not, actually. Everything we had is gone. Everything but what you see here.”

Kyven cut me a glance. That had surprised him, clearly, and I belatedly wondered if I’d misstepped. Maybe he’d come here believing Amryssa would make him wealthy. That he would inherit a territory whose coffers he could tap at will.

“So what you’re telling me,” he said slowly, “is that I should eat less bacon?”

I blinked. Or not. “I’m saying we have nowhere to go. No income. Oceansgate lost its tax collectors when we lost our lawmen. Life has only gotten harder, and at this point, we’re hanging on by our fingernails. Olivian’s only real hope is for Zephyrine to wake up.”

“So you stay,” he said, half-question, half-statement. “Nightmare after nightmare. You endure .”

“I didn’t say I liked it.” My lips dragged down at the corners. “I hate it, actually. I hate how the nightmares make me feel so...”

He arced a brow and crossed his arms, one boot propped casually over the other. “So...what?”

My jaw hardened. What was I doing? “Nothing. I don’t talk about feelings, remember?”

He chuckled. “You brought it up.”

“I didn’t. And if you’re so damn curious, how’d the nightmare make you feel? And how’d you show up to breakfast yesterday looking as fresh as a daisy?”

“I’m special.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I thought I’d already made that abundantly clear.”

I threw my hands up. Ugh. Served me right for trying to have an actual conversation with this jerk.

“Do they need help down there?” he said abruptly.

I eyed him. Here came the subject changes again. He was like a moth, flitting from one shiny candleflame to the next. It was a wonder he ever concentrated long enough to secretly torture people the way he did. “Who, the stewards?”

“I don’t see anyone else digging trenches, do you?”

I made a face. “It isn’t a suitable pastime for royalty, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s hot and dirty and sweaty and miserable.”

“I hope you’re not questioning my ability to wield a shovel. And besides, I’m bored. You can’t expect me to just...sit around and wilt all day, like your esteemed charge over there.” He waved toward Amryssa.

“You’re not going downstairs.”

“Well, I’m not going to sit still all afternoon. Idleness is one of the few talents I wasn’t blessed with.”

I glared. “Olivian wants me to keep an eye on you.”

“So do it from here.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already in motion, blurring past me, descending the stairs to the attic.

“Hey!” I called. “Come back!”

No reply.

I started to follow, then paused to consider Amryssa. Before I could decide, Kyven appeared below. He strode across the lawn, shedding his shirt on the way, then grabbed a shovel and joined the efforts.

Merron and the stewards exchanged glances. A scowl pinched my ex-lover’s face, but he grudgingly went to work beside Kyven, who catapulted soil from the trench with startling proficiency. The prince bent and flexed, bent and flexed. Muscle bunched and smoothed, his rhythm unflagging.

My jaw went slack as I watched. Huh. Maybe it wasn’t hatefulness that had roughened his palms and honed the cut-crystal lines of his body. Maybe it was...hard work.

Something he was clearly very familiar with.

I drifted toward Amryssa and sat. The butterfly climbed the stagnant air, no longer interested in its communion now that I’d shown up.

She watched it go. “You intrigue him.”

I frowned. “Who, the butterfly?”

“No. Your husband.”

“What?” I laughed, all hard edges and cold denial. “No, I don’t. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I think perhaps he intrigues you, too.”

“Am, no.” I made a sound of revulsion. “He infuriates me. He’s head-over-heels in love with himself and probably couldn’t act serious at a funeral. And let’s not forget the part where he kidnaps seneschal’s daughters and hurts them.”

“That wasn’t him, though. He never did those things.”

She delivered the statement with such matter-of-fact conviction that I paused. “What? Who told you that?”

“The butterfly.”

The butterfly . I shook my head. Of course.

“It had a message.” Amryssa burrowed against me, her bare skin sticking to mine. “It said I’m not who we think. Nor is the prince. None of us, none of this, is as it seems. That’s what it told me, just now.”

My insides soured. Normally, her ramblings slid right off, but today, the words lodged somewhere south of my heartbeat, in a no-man’s-land I didn’t dare trespass upon.

“It’s all right,” she said. “You’ll see.”

I watched the men work below. I wouldn’t see. I would sign the annulment and rid the world of Kyven, then ship Amryssa off to Hightower. I’d spend the rest of my years imprisoned, and that would be that. A small life, now concluded.

I slid an icy shutter down, sealing whatever feelings I had about that future behind a hard, blank wall.

“The butterfly said another thing, too,” Amryssa continued. “There’s a storm coming. More powerful than any nightmare. And when it arrives, everything will fall apart.”

I flinched. Everything will fall apart .

That much, at least, was probably exactly right.