Page 2 of The Nightmare Bride

I ’d made it halfway across the house and was hurrying down a hallway lined with tatty velvet wallpaper when I ran into a housemaid.

She stood motionless in the middle of the corridor. Broken white chunks littered the carpet at her feet—remnants of a plaster bust that had clearly taken a dive from its pedestal.

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered in horror. “I was dusting, and heard the thunder, and...” Her throat worked as she aimed a helpless glance at me.

I surveyed the wreckage. The sculpture had been worthless, like everything else in this house, but Olivian would rage over its demise, regardless. Olivian raged over everything . But right now, that was the least of our concerns.

“Worry about it later,” I said. “For now, just get to your room. Chain up.”

As if in warning, thunder rumbled, making the wall-sconces flicker. Their anemic light did little to dispel the darkness—already, the nightmare permeated the house, driving the candleglow into retreat.

“But the seneschal,” the housemaid warbled. “If he sees this, he’ll fire me. And then I won’t be able to—” She bit her lip, cutting herself off.

I took her measure. We weren’t friendly, exactly, but I was fairly sure her name was Althea. I also knew what she’d hesitated to say—that she had family in town, two young brothers she routinely snuck food to.

Yet another thing Olivian would’ve raged about, if he’d known. Here in the seneschal’s house, we could barely feed ourselves. But the townspeople were no better off than we were, and Althea’s brothers relied on her.

“I won’t tell,” I said. “He won’t know it was you.”

“But—”

“Harlowe,” someone barked.

I startled. Down the hall, a hulking shape emerged from the shadows.

My stomach dropped—Olivian was coming, and if he saw this mess, he’d do as Althea had said. He’d dismiss her. Her brothers would starve, and while I didn’t care for the people of Oceansgate, those boys were only innocent children.

“Go,” I hissed. “Before he sees.”

Althea’s eyes widened. “But he’ll think you did this.”

“So let him.”

She hesitated a moment longer, but when thunder boomed and the shadows clawed their way up the walls, she choked out a thank-you and fled.

And only just in time. The seneschal stopped before me, a bear of a man with bloodshot eyes and thick black hair that defied gravity. His morning coat was as rumpled as the rest of him, and spittle flecked his beard, as if he’d just concluded a screaming match with some unfortunate soul. “Harlowe.”

“Olivian.”

His gaze flicked to the wreckage at my feet. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“It was an accident. I was on my way to sound the bells and bumped into a pedestal.”

Anger blazed in his eyes, so I squared my shoulders and drew myself up to my full height. Olivian wouldn’t fire me like he would Althea. At least, I hoped not.

“Did you secure my daughter, at least?” he snapped.

“Of course.” As if I would be standing here, otherwise. As if I wouldn’t die before risking Amryssa. “Her safety comes first. Always. You know that.”

His jaw worked. “Fine. But I’ve sent Merron to sound the alarm, so you needn’t bother.”

The nightmare rumbled. I braced against a wave of vertigo while the seneschal did the same—his chest heaved as he swayed on his feet. Around us, shadows leapt, the darkness coming to life.

When reality finally stopped trembling, I gasped out, “But Merron should be chaining himself. Not dealing with the bells.”

As if on cue, a clang rolled down the hallway, then another, gathering strength until the peals rode atop one another. I imagined Merron working the heavy ropes, his arms flexing while sweat beaded in his brown hair.

Goddess, he needed to get to his room. Now .

“Don’t worry about him.” Olivian’s grizzled features hardened. “You have a different task, tonight. You’ll go downstairs and await Amryssa’s intended. Ensure the prince is safely secured.”

“I’ll...what?” Shit. Olivian might not be firing me, but I hadn’t escaped punishment, apparently. “But there’s no time. Kyven’ll have to take care of himself.”

Olivian glared. “I don’t pay you to argue, girl.”

“Pay me? You don’t pay me at all.”

“Don’t I?” His reddened eyes strayed to the weapon at my belt. “You realize I could give that dagger to someone else, don’t you?”

I flinched, though I knew what Olivian saw when he looked at me—no one special. No one of worth. Just a stubborn, foul-mouthed girl with a mean streak, who Amryssa had chosen as her protectress for some inexplicable reason.

In fairness, I couldn’t argue. I knew I didn’t deserve her. Or this house, shabby and faded as it was. Nor did I deserve the weapon at my waist, which granted me abilities I’d never earned.

But without those things, my life would amount to nothing, so I wouldn’t relinquish the dagger unless I had to.

“Look,” I said, reining in my frustration. “Why don’t I go wait on my balcony? I’ll call down, tell the prince how to chain up. But I won’t go outside. Not even Amryssa could ask that of me.”

“Kyven must survive this nightmare. He must marry my daughter.”

“Right. So you’ve said. Without once asking Amryssa how she feels about it.”

Olivian’s eyes slitted. A feverish glint festered there, one that never guttered out, even between nightmares. “I don’t need to. I’m her father. I decide what serves her best.”

I ground my teeth, but again, I couldn’t argue, if only because his reasons for this hare-brained match escaped me.

I could guess the king’s motives easily enough—a decaying estate on the southernmost fringes of civilization offered the perfect exile for the youngest and most sadistic of his sons.

But what did Olivian stand to gain? Political favor?

Money to revive Oceansgate’s dwindling coffers?

A means to shackle Amryssa to this place by looping yet another chain around her ankle?

I had no idea, and the seneschal refused to explain.

“Enough.” Warning dripped from Olivian’s words. “Go. Now. If the prince dies, I’ll hold you responsible.”

A feral smile worked its way across my lips. If the prince died, I’d welcome any punishment. “Fine. Works for me.”

Olivian hesitated, thrown by my agreement. Around us, shadows coalesced to threatening dark pools. Ghostly shapes oozed at the periphery of my vision. Something with a dozen too many legs skittered along the baseboards.

My stomach quivered. We needed to chain up, but this toxic pissing contest seemed more important than the demonic energy piling in the hallway.

At least to me. Maybe not to Olivian—his focus jumped to something past my shoulder. Something I knew wasn’t actually there.

“You again.” He paled. “Haven’t I told you to leave me be?”

I grinned. “Time to go,” I said, sing-song.

Olivian turned to me with wild eyes, then rushed off.

My smile fell from my lips like it had dropped dead.

I tried to hurry back the way I’d come, but thunder rippled, buckling my knees.

I flung out a hand to steady myself, but the wallpaper turned sticky beneath my touch, sucking at my fingertips like a hungry mouth.

I yanked myself away, my stomach roiling.

More thunder ruptured the air. This time, the sconce-lights ran together, and when they resolidified, the hallway curved downward instead of running straight.

I broke into a run, ignoring the illusory warp of physics long enough to reach my chamber and throw myself inside. I crossed the room with desperate strides. At a twitch of the latch, my balcony doors burst inward with such force they cracked against the wallpaper.

Salt-soaked wind poured in. I breathed deep and angled a shoulder into the gale.

Out on my balcony, the world heaved, a tornadic whirl of wind and darkness. To my left, the swamp pulsed like a glowing bruise. To my right, the road snaked toward town and the sea. But the storm eclipsed all that. I craned my head back, then back some more.

Indigo clouds hung in the sky like a gruesome planet on the verge of collision. Hellish lightning crackled within. The storm’s stench singed my nostrils, like someone had blown out a match and shoved it up my nose, still sizzling.

My heart shriveled. A thousand times, I’d wished the prince dead, hoping Zephyrine might somehow hear me.

I’d even whispered to my dagger, despite knowing its magic didn’t work that way, but maybe my pleas had accomplished more than I’d realized.

Maybe I’d called this behemoth to life without even meaning to.

Goddess, as much as I’d wanted Kyven gone, I hadn’t meant for this to be the price.

No help for it now, though, so I wrenched my gaze downward. A sleek black carriage hurtled up the road, gravel churning beneath its wheels.

The prince.

My hands curled around the balcony railing as the storm intensified. Its roar burrowed into my brain, coaxing phantom whispers to life.

Amryssa will tire of you soon. She’ll leave you. The only thing you’re good for is walking away from.

I saluted the storm with a middle finger and forced the offending thoughts aside. Gripping my dagger, I whispered to the carriage. “Crash,” I commanded. “Tip over. Just don’t beat the storm.”

Energy prickled against my hand, but fizzled out within moments. The carriage continued onward.

I bit back a curse. The prince was too far away. Even if he hadn’t been, tipping his vehicle probably required more magic than my dagger housed.

My only hope lay with the purple maelstrom swallowing the sky.

Below, the carriage swerved, and my heart lifted. Maybe the horses wouldn’t stop. Maybe they’d stampede against the house’s walls and explode their cargo in a shower of wood and lacerated flesh.

But no. The vehicle skidded to a halt in the circular drive.

A hulking coachman leapt down to yank open the doors.

Two figures burst out, one diminutive—a woman?

—the other medium-sized. The smaller helped the driver unload the luggage, then reached for the horses, but the panicked animals wheeled back the way they’d come, the now-empty vehicle jouncing behind them.

The storm’s whine rose to a scream. From the darkness, a shadow swooped toward me—some mutant hybrid of bat and crow. It cawed harshly before exploding into wisps.

The shadowy tendrils hit my skin and burrowed through. It was an illusion, but I could no longer distinguish nightmare from reality, could only clutch the railing and swallow my horror while darkness writhed beneath my flesh.

Down in the drive, the largest and smallest figures darted into the manor. But the third paused to look up. Despite the fiery wind, a raised cloak hood shrouded his face. Sinister eyes glinted within.

My hands squeezed the rusted railing with such savagery that blood wetted my palms. This was the prince, clearly, but instead of hurrying inside, he just...stood there, as unyielding as a blade poised to fall.

Tingles sheeted through me at the audacity. How? How could he stay so still, anchored to the earth by nothing but his boots? How could he stand unmoving while the wind lashed his cloak into an inky frenzy?

Somewhere distant, Amryssa began to scream. A cry bubbled up my throat, too, but I sealed it behind pursed lips. The prince couldn’t possibly reach safety now, and I wanted to see my triumph. I wanted to watch him fall apart.

But he only raised a hand in—what? Threat? Acknowledgment? Each finger narrowed to a point. Toxic violet light gleamed on wicked claws.

Another mirage, like the burrowing shadows, but this one mirrored the truth. Kyven was a monster. The letter in my armoire drawer proved it.

Pain ripped through my chest, and I glanced down to find my fingernails gouging furrows into my flesh. I forced the offending hand back to the railing. Time to go.

I leaned out. Hot blood seeped into my neckline while my hair thrashed around my face like cracking whips. “Die screaming,” I shouted, then staggered inside and threw myself onto the bed. I fastened my chains with desperate urgency.

And not a moment too soon, because the storm broke over the manor. Double-jointed creatures streamed from the corners, their mouths and eyes in all the wrong places, their limbs too spindly to make sense. They snatched at my clothes while black thoughts billowed through my mind.

You are nothing. You are worthless.

I screamed. I didn’t want to know. I wanted to rake the corrosive truths from my body with curled fingers, and I tried. Pain brightened in my wrists as I thrashed.

Anything to make it stop.

Only it went on. Shadows boiled in my bloodstream while the storm’s vastness pressed me to a paper-thin shard. I was nobody. Nothing. Just a water droplet flung at a conflagration, so meaningless I exploded into vapor before even touching the flame.

The mutant creatures cackled and danced.

And I screamed, until my voice faded to a rasp and scalding tears coursed down my cheeks.

Then, when it still didn’t end, I went right on screaming.