Page 27 of The Nightmare Bride

O n the way downstairs, I glanced back to where Kyven trailed after me.

His expression radiated quiet concern, but I couldn’t forget the flash I’d seen in my room.

Or the fact that he’d been so interested in Althea last week.

Or the knowledge that he’d been unchained during last night’s storm, because while he’d comforted me, yes, I couldn’t be sure he’d stayed.

At the nightmare’s peak, he could have gone anywhere, done anything, and I wouldn’t have known the difference.

My stomach soured. Just minutes ago, I’d been so certain of him, but that had been before he’d admitted to spending the past decade as an actor. As a liar . One adept enough to wield any accent at will.

Now confusion cycloned within me. Who was he? What was he hiding? By the time we reached the library, my head throbbed.

Vick had already arrived—he stood in a corner with folded arms, his expression guarded but his eyes as incisive as ever. I wished I could turn that acuity back on him, because while the proceedings didn’t appear to surprise him, they didn’t appear to not surprise him, either.

Gods, what if he’d taken Althea? What if neither of them had?

Ugh.

Olivian cleared his throat, signaling for quiet. Most everyone was in attendance, except Miss Quist and Amryssa. Lunk occupied an armchair, his expression somber.

“As many of you know,” the seneschal began, “one of our housemaids was discovered missing this morning.”

I grimaced. I barely knew Althea, but I hoped to Zephyrine she was all right.

Olivian mostly repeated what the steward had said, though he looked markedly less put-together while doing it.

Blood vessels laced his eyes. His hair appeared to have been combed with a fork—if it had been combed at all—and I marveled that he’d managed to mobilize the staff for Althea’s sake.

Then I realized that, for him, her disappearance represented a tool gone missing from its toolbox.

One less housemaid meant fewer hands to churn the butter, to gather the eggs and hang the washing on the line.

Olivian didn’t actually care . He just didn’t want the household’s manpower diminished.

“It goes without saying,” he said, “that if Althea failed to secure herself last night, her body might be somewhere on the grounds. Be prepared for that possibility.”

I winced. Olivian concluded by dividing the staff into pairs and instructing us on where to search.

“We’ll reconvene in two hours. If she’s not found—” Olivian faltered, and I followed his glare to an empty nook. I could practically see his wife’s ghost hovering. Taunting him.

But he seemed to have finished. Housemaids and stewards sorted into twos and drifted off.

“Well,” Kyven said. “You and I are to search the third floor, it seems.”

My jaw tightened. More alone time with him. Hurray. “Yup. Might as well get going.”

“Let’s. Because the sooner this is over, the sooner I can partake in some recovery bacon.”

I paused, my gaze narrowing. “Recovery bacon? And what exactly do you have to recover from, if the nightmares don’t affect you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing to do with last night.” He gave me a saucy smile. “More that someone in this house is adept at working up my appetite, then leaving me wanting.”

I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was referring to the way I’d taunted him with that almost-kiss upstairs. “You deserved that.”

“Oh, I don’t dispute it. And I didn’t say I didn’t like it. Just that it left me...hungry.”

I turned my burning face away and headed out of the library. This man. With him, the upper hand always seemed to elude me.

On the third floor, Kyven and I searched the eastern corridor, room by room. I avoided his gaze the whole time, unwilling to brave another volley of flirting.

For his part, he gave the search an honest effort. Or seemed to, at least. He flipped the heavy drapes aside, coughing at the resulting billows of dust, then got on his knees and hunted beneath the beds.

No Althea. I couldn’t decide whether that heartened or discouraged me.

When we reached the end of the hall, we came to a locked door. Kyven jiggled the handle and frowned. “What’s in here?”

“You really don’t know?”

“No.” He blinked down at me. “Should I?”

I crossed my arms. This was the room his attendant had expressed such an interest in, right before I’d caught them whispering together.

Except it turned out Vick wasn’t Kyven’s attendant, but.

..what? His subject? Underling? Certainly not his friend.

..their interactions had never been warm enough for that.

And lately, Vick’s glares had grown even colder.

“Well, Vick was dying to know all about it. Right before you two got all chatty together.”

Kyven’s brow furrowed.

“Do you know where Althea is?” I blurted, unable to help myself.

His expression didn’t flicker. “I imagine I do, given that anyone in their right mind would tire of these nightmares. Anyone would leave . I’m sure she’s far away, breathing a sigh of relief at never having to suffer another storm like last night’s.”

I cataloged his every word, every blink. “So you didn’t steal her?”

He snorted. “Hardly.”

“And you didn’t have Vick steal her? Use this room to hide her, maybe? Because he seemed dead-set on getting through this door.”

His look turned dubious. “If Vick has any interest in this room, it’s because he suspects it holds something of value. Just what are you accusing me of, exactly?”

I studied him for long moments, then pressed my palms to my eyes. Seven hells, I didn’t actually know. I only knew that this morning, my feelings had undergone some tectonic shift, transitioning toward trust, toward this bone-deep need to believe him.

Even now, a quiet certainty pulsed within me, a stillness that said I was safe with this man. Could I trust it?

My breathing grew shallow. Maybe Althea had left on her own. Maybe she’d taken her family and fled. Maybe Kyven whispering to Vick was just a coincidence, and?—

“What in Zephyrine’s name are you doing?”

I whirled.

Olivian stood in the hall, his head lowered, his stance wide, like a bull on the precipice of charging. “Why aren’t you two back downstairs with the others?”

I backed away. Anywhere else, I would’ve held my ground, but here? An image flashed—of that poor steward, mottled and air-starved, Olivian’s hands around his neck.

Goddess, I never should’ve come near the Lady Marche’s room.

Kyven stepped in front of me. “This door’s locked. It’s the last place we have left to search, but we can’t get in.”

“Because it’s private.” Every line of Olivian’s body was strained to breaking.

“Well, you did say every room.” Kyven sniffed. “If there were exceptions, you should’ve specified.”

“There’re exceptions,” Olivian hissed. I’d never heard that tone from him—as cold and sibilant as a blade being drawn. “No one comes near this door. Not the keymistress, not even a prince.”

Kyven drew himself up. His height didn’t equal the seneschal’s, but he held himself like a much taller man. And he was still plenty big enough for me to hide behind, thank Zephyrine.

“Very well.” He sounded almost...bored. “The thrill of playing hide and seek was wearing thin, anyway.”

With that, he took my arm and guided me away. I went, too shaken to protest. I doubted he had any idea how close that had come to violence.

Back downstairs, everyone had reassembled. I calmed my trembling breaths and said a prayer for Althea. No one had found her, apparently, and I hoped she was halfway down the Oceansgate road, well on her way to a better life.

But then Miss Quist and Amryssa entered, and my musings evaporated. I rushed toward my best friend, forgetting Kyven. Vick. Everything.

Amryssa looked awful, as if the nightmare had carved out a chunk of her vitality and cast it into the fire. Her bones prodded at skin as diaphanous as wet silk, and deep hollows lurked beneath her eyes. And...had she somehow lost weight since yesterday?

“Am, what happened?” My hands fluttered over her, as if by rearranging her dress, I could rearrange her .

“Nothing.” She tried for brightness and fell miserably short. “I only...well, I’m tired. That nightmare...it was a cruel one.”

Miss Quist’s wide-set blue eyes reflected the same helplessness filling my heart. “She ate, but it hasn’t helped much. I don’t know what else to do, except send her upstairs for a nap.”

I gulped down the thorny ball forming in my throat. Amryssa looked like she was dying. Actually dying. Slowly but surely, these nightmares were killing her, and I couldn’t do a goddess-damned thing about it, except?—

No. Wait.

I straightened. Purpose leached into me, chasing away the ache in my marrow. Like I’d told Kyven upstairs, I could free Zephyrine from my dagger. Stop the nightmares.

Because, looking at Amryssa now, I wasn’t convinced a royal marriage would save her.

At this rate, I wasn’t sure she’d survive to see the wedding at all.