Page 25 of The Nightmare Bride

“Well, why not? At least, that’s what I thought.

And then I had my first one and the confidence I’d spent a decade building fell apart so quickly.

But I saw something there. Inside the eye of the storm.

” Wonder snuck in, silvering his words. “I could taste the possibility. I thought...surely if I knew myself down to the molecule, if my self-belief was unflinching, if I could belong to myself in every sense, I might battle a nightmare and win. And I’d already worn so many faces.

Played so many roles. But this was the most challenging yet.

The most exhilarating. So I stayed, and made it my mission to conquer the storm. ”

I scanned his reflection, dumbstruck. He perched at the edge of the bed, one elbow draped over a knee, the opposite palm propped against the mattress. The spare, hungry lines of his body radiated their usual power, yet I’d completely misinterpreted its source. Twice, now.

“It took me more than half a year,” he said, “but I managed.”

“But...that should’ve been impossible.”

He lapsed into a secretive half smile. Because clearly, it wasn’t.

The silence thickened to bursting. When I could stand it no longer, I pushed back from the vanity. This time I was the moth answering the beckoning shine of the flame. I went and stood before him, so awed I couldn’t think past my own amazement.

All his self-assurance was apparently...completely genuine.

No wonder my insults never affected him.

“I didn’t realize people like you existed,” I said.

“I could say the same.” He looked up at me, steady. So steady. “It’s funny. In plays, people are always risking themselves for others, but I’ve never actually met anyone with that kind of conviction. That kind of loyalty . Not until you.”

Heat blossomed along my neck.

“It’s always men, too, in stories.” His smile turned wry. “I suppose it should come as no surprise that in reality, it’s women who have that kind of courage.”

I searched for words. “I think I’ve...catastrophically misjudged you.”

Silence. Consideration. Then, “I was no less guilty. I thought... Well, I thought what everyone else did, when I came here. That you were pampered. That everyone in this house was.”

We stared at one another. I held my breath, waiting, waiting, for...what? The hand that dangled between his knees twitched, his fingers flexing, but he made no move for me, nor I for him.

In the quiet, questions whined in my ears like diving mosquitoes. One landed to sting. “But if you’d spent time in Oceansgate, how come people didn’t know you in town last night?”

Slyness slid into his eyes. “Because. I didn’t spend those ten months in town. I spent them in the woods.”

“In the woods ? What, with the brigands?”

“They call themselves ‘liberators,’ thank you very much. But yes.”

Shock harpooned me to the floor. “Wait. So...you knew that woman, then, down in the cellar? Is that why she called you ‘my lord?’”

His eyes flashed. “Mmm. Yes. Kyra’s always been...impetuous. I’m not surprised that she threatened you, but you should know that isn’t what the liberators are about. Redistributing resources, yes. Holding knives to people’s throats? No.”

I blinked at him. Blinked some more. “I don’t... Wow. Okay. You really were one of them.”

He surveyed me, a long, lazy look that ended with a smile. “I’ve surprised you.”

“You’ve shocked me. I mean...what was that even like ? Living in the forest?”

“Uncomfortable,” he said. “And wet, and surprisingly demanding. We couldn’t drink the water, so we had to harvest the rainfall.

Not to mention hack apart the forest for firewood.

But food was the biggest challenge. Things were easier when there was still traffic along the road to waylay, but now the situation’s getting dire.

If the liberators don’t find a new food source soon, they’ll have to go elsewhere. ”

“Oh. But...why not just move to town, then?”

He gave me a knowing look. “Because. Their leader prefers anonymity.”

I thought back to Kyven’s pocketing of the Wanted poster last night. At the time, I’d written that off, mainly because he’d acted like it didn’t matter. But I should’ve realized. “You know him, then? This...bandit chief?”

“He and I have met,” he said, and I had the distinct impression that he was enjoying this.

“What’s he like?”

“Oh, very mysterious. Very...bandity. And very committed to playing the hero. I can’t tell you much more, because I wouldn’t be any sort of friend to him, if so.”

I pondered that. “Can he resist the nightmares, too?”

Kyven held my eyes for a heartbeat, then another. “As far as I know, only I can do that.”

Bits of the puzzle he posed locked together with a click, backed by the soft thrum of rain.

“So that’s where the rumor comes from, then, about the brigands not needing chains.

From you. Of all people. But...Vick. You said you’ve known him less than a year, which means you must’ve met him in the forest, right?

Is that why he and Lunk don’t wear the royal livery?

Because they’re not actually from Hightower?

Because they’re nothing more than common thieves? ”

His answering smile nearly blinded me. I’d pleased him, I could tell.

“Wow.” I trotted the revelations around in my mind. No wonder Vick’s accent didn’t match Kyven’s. It sounded stiff because it was fake, because Vick hailed from my own back yard. At least Lunk’s lisp papered over any clues to his origins. At least he hadn’t lied.

“Don’t tell them I told you,” Kyven said. “Lunk in particular would be sorely disappointed to know you no longer think of him as overtrained and equally overpaid.”

A strangled laugh worked free. “Okay. But...you’d been back. To Hightower. Right?” He must have. Eliana had met him in the capital just months ago. In Burdock Street, whatever that was.

“I spent time there, yes. Off and on.” Kyven studied me from beneath his lashes. I couldn’t tell if he was playing coy or dissembling. Or both. “When it suited me.”

Gods among us. This story almost disproved Eliana’s letter in and of itself—she’d made it sound like the crimes in the capital had been continuous. I almost blurted as much outright, then yanked it back.

There was something in the way Kyven was looking at me. A challenge, almost. An expectation. One puzzle piece I was still failing to grasp.

I strained toward it, but it felt like trying to do long division in my head. The solution promised to fall into place, only I couldn’t juggle the moving pieces long enough to get there.

But while I was many, many things, I wasn’t stupid. That I knew. If I demanded answers, Kyven would only evade, like when I’d asked about Vick, or the Wanted poster. But if I waited, combing through every unguarded word he said, I would piece it together, whether he wanted me to or not.

“This explains so much,” I said, leaving him to his secrets. I’d have the rest out of him, and soon. “But...what does this mean, exactly? For us? How does it affect the next month?”

One bronze brow arched. “Are you asking what I want from the rest of our marriage?”

“I... Yes. I think so.”

He chuckled and made a fruitless attempt to straighten his hair. “Something very different than you do, I’m sure.”

“Which is?”

He heaved a breath, as if squaring for battle.

“I want...everything. To experience all life has to offer. Which means that for as long as I’m your husband, I’d like to actually be your husband.

In every sense. I want to live it. Breathe it.

Map it from the inside until I can draw it in the dark.

I want to sink into it. I want to bury myself inside you. ”

At my startled look, he laughed. “Not like that , lioness. Well, no, that’s absolutely a lie. I do want to bury myself inside you. Like that . But that’s not precisely what I mean, in this case. It’s more like...”

“Authenticity?” I offered, in a feeble attempt to recover. “Is that what you’re saying?”

His mouth snicked up. “Just so.”

My bare toes wriggled against the carpet, searching for purchase amidst this dizzying conversation. “ That’s what you meant when you said there was something in this marriage for you?”

“Does that surprise you so much?”

It did. It really did. Although I now understood why he’d refused to explain, up on the roof that day. If he had, I wouldn’t have believed a word.

But now that I’d seen him throw himself into one experience after another with unfailing enthusiasm, it almost made sense that he would approach marriage the same way.

“Surprise aside,” I said slowly, “what does authenticity mean to you, exactly? You want to...what? Share my bed? Stare into my eyes? Cuddle me? Fuck me?”

“I’m not talking about fucking .” His tongue trailed over the word, tasting it.

Caressing it. His accent reshaped it from something crude into something luscious.

“At least, not just that. If it were up to me, I’d take that, of course.

And the staring, and the cuddling, and the bed-sharing.

And some of this, too. Where I look after you, like I did last night.

That’s part of this whole matrimony business, if I’m not mistaken. ”

I ignored the sudden fluttering inside my ribcage. “But if we did all that, we’d be married. Completely. With no way to annul it.”

“Oh, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that things are what you make them.

” His voice smoothed, like honey across satin.

“As far as I’m concerned, no king, no law, can tell me who or what I am.

The same is true in this. What you and I are to one another is ours alone.

It’s decided here, in this room, and nowhere else.

Certainly not in Hightower, or by some crusty old monarch.

Which is what I meant when I said I don’t take vows seriously.

I didn’t mean I don’t take myself seriously.

Only words forced upon me by other people. ”