Page 18 of The Nightmare Bride

T he incident in the root cellar stayed lodged in my thoughts for days, like a splinter I couldn’t dig free.

I took to watching Kyven closely, almost obsessively.

I scrutinized him over breakfast when he rushed to take a laden tray from Miss Quist. Then when he helped the stewards split kindling in the yard.

And again on the afternoon he plucked a still-yellow dandelion from the marsh’s edge, then gave it to Amryssa for no reason at all.

In private, I reread Eliana’s letter, wondering if I’d missed something. But her warning remained clear: Kyven had a dark side.

I just...couldn’t seem to actually find it. Not even a glimmer.

As the midpoint of my marriage approached, I wondered. Had Eliana been mistaken, somehow? She’d believed what she’d written, clearly, and Kyven was keeping secrets, but nothing added up. I felt like I’d been handed a jigsaw puzzle, only now the pieces refused to produce the image on the box.

All I knew for sure was that Kyven was hiding something. He’d said so himself, but I’d also caught him whispering with Vick a dozen more times, their exchanges growing heated. The fox-faced attendant wandered the house at all hours, and whenever our eyes met, he smiled that razorblade smile.

Yes, I’m up to something , it said. And no, I won’t tell you what.

At this point, I didn’t know what to believe.

“I think Vick hates me,” I told Kyven one night, by way of bringing up the subject. I knew if I asked outright, he’d only turn the question around on me, so I’d resolved to come at it from another angle.

“So?” Kyven said. “Just hate him back.”

He lay on the far side of the bed, his eyes closed, his hands propped beneath his head. His bare torso caught the candlelight and threw it in my face.

Sweet Zephyrine, he was always doing that. Just... glistening . The absolute nerve.

“That should come to you naturally enough,” he added.

I frowned and rearranged my nightgown. It was hot tonight, and I would’ve given anything to dispense with my nightwear completely. “Did you just call me hateful?”

“Oh, don’t sound so scandalized. It’s nothing you wouldn’t lay claim to yourself.”

“Oh, really? Says who?”

His mouth curled, though his eyes didn’t open. “Are you saying you aren’t hateful?”

“Well...no. Of course not. I hate you, don’t I? You and your attendants, both.”

He chuckled. “Oh, come, now. No one hates Lunk. It’s physically impossible.”

I huffed, but he had a point. Lunk’s tears at my wedding, plus the man’s endless, jagged-toothed smiles—not to mention the raging crush he’d developed on Miss Quist—had the inconvenient effect of deflecting any ill will.

“Fine,” I said. “Lunk’s all right. But Vick? He’s creepy. I mean, why’s he always poking around, acting like he’s looking for something?”

Kyven cracked a lazy eye. “What would he be looking for?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

He managed a shrug, even though he was lying down. “Nothing. Not to my knowledge, anyway.”

I held his gaze, scanning for some hidden meaning, but he only crooked a mischievous smile. Goddess, he was good. Or innocent, maybe. Or...ugh. Who the hell knew, anymore?

“You’re feisty tonight,” he said. “Seeing as how you have all this energy, you know what we ought to do?”

I groaned. I did know, because he suggested the same thing every night. “Go into town,” I recited, in unison with him—snooty accent and all.

He laughed. “Excellent. You’re catching on. Should I go get dressed, then?”

“No. I’m not going anywhere with you. Exactly the opposite.”

“Hmm. So I should go get un dressed?”

“No. Stop.” I slapped at his shoulder, then instantly regretted finding out how solid it was. If Merron ever spoke to me again, I’d have to tell him not to let Kyven chop so much wood. “I hate that you always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Needle me. On purpose.”

“I do no such thing.” Mock scandal suffused his voice. “I only meant I’d have to get undressed, first, in order to dress for taking you into town.”

I threw him an exasperated look, but his words swirled in my mind like water around a sluggish drain.

Would it be so terrible to go with him, just this once?

Amryssa was already asleep for the night, and the house’s cheerless halls had grown downright oppressive, lately.

These days, I just...itched. Spending every waking moment with this pompous prince had made me feel bound and chafing, as if my skin had grown too small to contain the errant reactions he provoked.

“Come on.” Kyven rolled toward me, all those muscles shifting in concert, which I tried my best not to notice. “I’ll take you to the theatre. Then for drinks. We’ll have fun.”

I crossed my arms, but...goddess, when had I last indulged in a drink, much less a show? My trips to town always involved errands done as quickly as possible, in an effort to minimize the whispers.

Witch, witch, witch .

But I’d never gone into Oceansgate with Kyven. And, for all that I detested him, I couldn’t deny he had a certain...magnetism. He carried a whirlwind force about him, a potency that couldn’t be contained or denied. Only endured.

Maybe accompanying him to town would make for a different reception. And maybe, if I got a few drinks in him, I could loosen his tongue regarding Vick.

Vick. That decided me. My bristliness hadn’t gotten me any closer to unmasking Kyven’s secrets, but maybe plying him with alcohol would.

“You know what?” I said. “Fine. As long as we’re back before Amryssa wakes up.”

Those obnoxiously blue eyes brightened. “Really?”

“Yep. Let’s go.”

He rocketed off the bed as if he hadn’t had a foot planted in the world of dreams just minutes ago. “A marital victory, at last. What a rush.” He disappeared into the bathroom and emerged minutes later, clad in such princely finery that my insides constricted.

Goddess. I would never marry—not truly, not considering what I’d soon sacrifice for Amryssa. But if I had, I would’ve wanted my future husband to look something like this.

Just...minus the part about being a liar. And possibly a sadist.

I sighed and went to my armoire. In the bathroom, I exchanged my nightgown for an amethyst dress with lace spills at the sleeves, then eyed my reflection, thankful my dagger had managed my corset laces for me. I would’ve rather flung myself out the window than asked for Kyven’s help.

When I emerged from the bathroom, he gave me an appreciative once-over. “Ready?” He offered an arm.

I ignored it. “As I’ll ever be.”

We stole into the hall and down the stairs.

With each step, a fizzy lightness crept over me, a thrill that buzzed in the back of my skull.

I hadn’t done anything like this in...well, ever, and I almost felt as though I’d slipped into someone else’s life.

Like I was sixteen years old, escaping the watchful eyes of my parents.

Shedding the burden of duty, if only for a night.

Not that I actually was. Tonight’s purpose involved coaxing some kind of truth out of Kyven.

But as we slunk through the candlelit halls, I swore the shadows made way, then curtained together again behind us, the darkness itself accommodating our passage.

As if we’d locked the world out of some shared secret.

Outside, the marsh’s salt-heavy tang blanketed the evening. The worst of the heat had broken, and the stars hardened to fiery diamonds. The swamp’s glow rose from the trees like spectral purple fumes.

I paused to contemplate the house’s unlit windows, then the sky. A month had passed since our last nightmare, and before that, we’d only had an eight-day reprieve. But the nightmares usually passed through every six weeks or so, which meant we should have another fortnight of peace.

Kyven drew close, as if he could sense my mental abacus clacking. “If we see so much as a cloud, we’ll hurry back. We won’t leave her alone.”

My breath caught. Was he that perceptive, or was I that transparent? “You swear it?”

He pressed a fist to his heart. “On my life,” he said, and swept an exaggerated bow, like some knight of old.

I huffed at his over-the-top theatrics. He was clearly lying, but...so what? Town wasn’t far. Only a mile and a half. I’d be minutes from Amryssa, at most.

Kyven straightened and sauntered off, into the sultry darkness. I followed, knowing that if the weather turned, I’d rush back, with him or without him.

On the road, gravel crunched beneath our feet. Kyven attempted to draw me into a conversation and, with no other way to pass the time, I let him. It was a real discussion, even, about Lunk’s newly minted love for Miss Quist.

I’d been there three weeks ago to witness its conception. One morning, our rosy-cheeked, frizzy-haired, gloriously plump cook had brought a tray of eggs into the breakfast room, and Lunk had lost his heart.

I hadn’t known a man could fall in love in a single moment, but the giant’s cheeks had slackened and his blunt features softened to a glow. He hadn’t spoken, but he’d quit breathing and hadn’t started again until the kitchen door had swung shut behind Miss Quist.

Now I conversed with Kyven in low tones, my attention still on the sky. “Has Lunk talked to her yet?”

“No,” he said, “and I don’t believe he plans to. He has a habit of taking himself out of the running before he even gets started. I’ve seen him do it before.”

“Why? Because of his...?” I gestured to my face.

“Mmm-hmm. I’ve told him that any woman worth her salt will realize how much he has to recommend him, and that we can’t all win the genetic roll of the dice.

But he never listens. Most likely, he’ll moon about, admiring her from afar, and eventually write a despairing poem or two.

If nothing else, I take comfort in the fact that you’ll have to suffer through the recitation with me. ”