Page 17 of The Nightmare Bride

G iving Kyven a head start proved to be a mistake. I rushed down the hall, searching for some sign of him.

And found nothing. Just shadows and moth-eaten draperies. How had he gotten away from me so quickly?

My chest tightened. Amryssa was waiting for me upstairs, but I couldn’t leave Kyven unattended. I refused to turn my back on him, only to find out later that some unlucky housemaid had disappeared.

I upped my pace, wondering if I should call his name. But I didn’t want to draw attention—Olivian might be lurking, and he wouldn’t forgive an oversight like this, not on the heels of the shattered bust debacle.

I rounded a bend in the hall and pulled up short. Miss Quist blinked at me, her wispy blonde curls only halfway contained by her cook’s cap.

“Harlowe, sweetheart. I almost ran right into you. How clumsy of me.”

I waved off her words. “No, no, it’s my fault. I was just looking for Kyven. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

“Oh, yes.” Her eyes brightened. “His Highness went that way, just now. He offered to bring some mushrooms up from the cellar for me. Isn’t that delightful? He might be a prince, but that doesn’t stop him from pitching in, does it?”

My mouth tightened. If pissing me off every five minutes counted as ‘pitching in,’ then sure. He was endlessly fucking helpful. “Right. Yes. Excuse me.”

I hurried away, then pushed through the first external door I came to, since the root cellar could only be accessed from outside. Heat and brightness hit me like a slap, but I barely noticed. Across the yard, the cellar doors lay open. Between them, a dark tunnel sloped into the earth.

I hurried over and plunged inside. The temperature plummeted as I went, the air thickening with the scent of barley and dried apples. My eyes struggled to adjust, the rapid shift from bright to dark rendering the tunnel little more than a shadowy smear.

“Kyven,” I called into the darkness. “Are you down here?”

No answer.

Loose earth squished beneath my shoes. Soon, the passageway widened, delivering me into the cellar proper. Shadows moved within shadows, and I stopped. For the second time in as many minutes, I’d almost collided with someone.

Before me, a figure crouched, rooting through a crate that probably held the dregs of last year’s scraggly potatoes, or maybe the stunted mushrooms Miss Quist had requested. I couldn’t tell, what with the sunbursts still lingering on my retinas.

“Just so you know,” I said, “I don’t appreciate having to chase?—”

The figure straightened and whirled. A fist caught me by the windpipe, then forced me backward until my shoulder blades hit the wall. Dirt rained down, grit clogging my eyes.

I flailed, trying to fend off my attacker, but the hiss of a blade leaving its sheath made me freeze.

Because that wasn’t just any blade. It was my blade. My dagger. The belt at my waist suddenly felt much too light.

My pulse sped as panic pumped along every nerve. Without my weapon, I was defenseless. “Give that back.”

But the grip at my throat only tightened. Cold steel pricked my jaw.

Gods among us. If I could’ve drawn a proper breath, I might have actually laughed. Kyven had shown his true colors. Finally.

“I knew it,” I wheezed. I sounded borderline hysterical, but I was about to be murdered in a root cellar by my own husband, so I couldn’t judge myself too harshly. “I always knew you?—”

“Shut up.” The knife-tip dented my skin.

My mouth snapped shut, my mind spiraling into nothingness. Because that voice didn’t belong to Kyven. It was...a woman’s . I blinked, trying to clear the debris from my eyes.

Slowly, features emerged from the darkness. A long, elegant nose. Full lips. Dark hair, braided into a coronet around a heart-shaped face.

I stared. I’d never seen this woman in my life. She didn’t even look to be from Oceansgate—instead of a shabby, thrice-mended dress, she wore a man’s tunic over deerskin leggings.

I stared. “Who the hell’re are you?”

When she didn’t answer, suspicion hatched in my mind. “Wait. Are you one of those outlaws, from the woods? What’re you doing here? Are you stealing from us?”

“Stealing?” Her nose wrinkled. “Since when is taking from the rich considered stealing?”

“I don’t know,” I hissed. “Probably since laws were invented?”

Her gaze narrowed.

I glared right back. I probably shouldn’t have goaded her, but I was sick to death of the misconceptions.

The judgment . “Look, lady. Just so you know, no one in Oceansgate is rich. Least of all Olivian. So how about you piss off, back to the woods? Go tell your little bandit friends to stay away. There’s nothing here for you. ”

My outburst earned me a jab of the knife. I winced, though she hadn’t quite broken skin.

“We’re hungry.” She leaned in. “And you’ve got food. Seems simple enough to me.”

I sneered. “You realize there’re twenty-eight people living in this house, right? Look around. There’s hardly anything here. If you take our food, we’ll?—”

“Unhand her.”

I froze, my mouth clicking shut. Because that voice, I recognized.

Shadows rippled as Kyven emerged from the tunnel behind my assailant. “Now.”

The woman stiffened. “My...lord?”

My brow wrinkled. My lord? She couldn’t even see him. How did she know to call him that?

Then again, that ridiculous accent gave him away. That, and the imperial command he somehow laced through every word.

“I’m ordering you,” Kyven said coldly, “to put down the knife. Don’t make me say it again.”

The woman sucked in a breath, but a moment later, both fist and blade vanished from my throat. She backed away, her hands raised. “I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t think?—”

“What, that I’d take issue with you threatening my wife?

” Censure bled from Kyven’s tone. Apparently, he could have a serious conversation.

“Because I do. And it’s as she said. There’s nothing here for you.

Even if there were, that doesn’t give you the right to go around putting daggers to people’s throats. ”

The woman wilted.

I gaped. Good goddess, what would it be like to just... prince your way into making people feel bad about themselves?

Clearly, I hadn’t been utilizing this princess thing to its fullest potential.

“Go.” Kyven’s command held no room for argument. “And don’t come back here.”

The woman made to move past him, but he extended a hand, palm up.

“Leave the knife.”

She gulped and set my dagger in his grip, then rushed off. He stood unmoving. With the tunnel backlighting him, I couldn’t make out his expression.

Seconds ticked past, each one snarling my nerves tighter.

Because now we were alone down here, and Kyven had my knife and the perfect alibi.

People would have asked questions if I’d turned up dead in our bedroom, but here in the root cellar?

He could simply blame my murder on the outlaw who’d tried to rob us. Easy.

A crazed laugh burbled from my throat.

“What,” he said, “is so funny?”

“This.” The intensity of the last few minutes jarred something loose, some violent rush of emotion.

It would be a relief, finally, to know. To see that the man I slept beside—the one who waltzed through these halls looking the way he did, who charmed people left and right, who was in the maddening habit of calling me his wife, no less—was no more than a monster.

I only hoped he’d make this next part quick.

“Go on.” I gestured to the dagger. “You have my knife. And all the privacy you could want. You can finally do everything you’ve been dreaming of doing to me.”

No answer. For long moments, he didn’t move. Then he came toward me. Light gleamed on the point of my dagger—a bright star of pain, just waiting to be delivered.

A red wall of rage rose within me. Goddess, what a graceless, stupid way to die. How had I even gotten myself into this situation? How could I leave Amryssa alone like this?

But when Kyven’s face came into focus, his mouth snicked up. “I assure you, lioness, the things I dream of doing to you don’t involve a knife.”

His hand moved. I braced for the bite of metal between my ribs, but he simply slid my blade into my belt-sheath. Then he just...

...stood there. Committing exactly zero crimes against my person. If anything, he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Surely you didn’t think I’d hurt you?”

I stared up into his face. What? What? I wanted to scream. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to fall to the floor and thank him for saving me from that thief, only the fact that he had didn’t make sense, none of this did, and mostly, I just wanted him to stop looking at me like that.

Like he knew me. Like we had some kind of rapport.

“Now.” Warmth colored his voice. “I have some mushrooms to deliver, and you have a seneschal’s daughter to attend to. Shall we go? Or would you prefer to stand here making baseless accusations all day? I really could go either way, myself.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Nonsensical tears pricked at my eyes. “I...don’t understand you.”

His mouth quirked. “Really? I wonder why that is.”

I just stood there, helpless. Lost.

“Have you considered,” he said, “it might be because you haven’t actually tried?”

He flashed me a wink, then walked off, snatching a burlap bag on the way. Mushrooms, presumably.

I stared after him. Seven hells, I...what? My mind melted to a wide white roar, a slate that had just been wiped clean. I’d been so sure he was evil. I’d been utterly convinced. But now...

Kyven’s footsteps faded. A full minute passed before I finally shook myself and hurried into the passageway. I might not understand what had just happened, but I did know one thing.

I wouldn’t be letting the prince out of my sight again.