Page 28 of The Nightmare Bride

I spent the day fussing over Amryssa. A nap and a bath revived her a little, enough that by evening, I’d decided she would live. This time. But the nightmares were escalating, and if the next storm arrived before the annulment certificate did...

I shuddered. I had a month to free Zephyrine, maybe less.

The following morning, I threw myself into investigating my dagger.

I installed Amryssa in the library, which would stay cool all day, given the continued rain, and set out to find Olivian.

When I spotted his broad shoulders down a hallway, I sped after him and caught at the sleeve of his morning coat.

He turned. Annoyance leapt into his features, like he’d been holding it in reserve for precisely this moment. “What?” he barked.

Before I could get a word out, he fired more questions. “Why aren’t you with the prince? Didn’t I tell you to stay with him? Do we really need another housemaid going missing?”

“Althea left on her own,” I snapped, and goddess, how I hoped that was true. “You know that’s the most likely explanation.”

He grunted—in concession or impatience, who knew.

“And Kyven’s in my room, showering. I locked him in, so there’s no need to get snippy.”

“Fine.” Olivian waved a contemptuous, out-with-it hand. “Then what do you want?”

I lifted my chin and just...dove in. Amryssa couldn’t afford for me to hesitate. “What I want is for you to tell me how a piece of Zephyrine ended up in my dagger. And where the rest of her is. And why the nightmares seem to have a vested interest in keeping your daughter safe.”

The seneschal went ashen. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. A falling feather would’ve made more sound.

I chronicled every telltale twitch. Half of what I’d just said had been a stab in the dark, but the raw panic filling his eyes told me I’d hit the mark.

Seven hells, he’d known . All along, Olivian had understood where Zephyrine was and hadn’t done a thing about it.

No wonder I hated this prick. The goodwill I’d granted him that day in his study dissolved like a sandcastle in the first high wave.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but his denial arrived much too late. “If the dagger told you that, it’s lying.”

A breath jetted from my nose. So he knew the knife spoke, too. Unbelievable. “The dagger didn’t tell me anything. I figured this out on my own.” Or...Kyven had, really, but I didn’t need to go awarding the prince any gold stars at the moment.

“You’re mistaken.” Olivian’s words sounded like they’d been wrenched from his throat by force.

“I’m not. Clearly. Which means you know how to undo these nightmares, don’t you? How to free Zephyrine.”

I hadn’t thought the seneschal could look any more apoplectic, but he managed. He made a choking sound as his pupils shrank to fevered pinpricks. “You have no idea what you’re asking.”

I sucked at my teeth. “Maybe not, but remember how you said we only got into this bride-swapping mess because you didn’t trust me when you should have? Don’t you think this might be another one of those times?”

He leaned in, making full use of his height. “I absolutely do not.”

I widened my stance, unwilling to back down.

“And if you love my daughter as much as you say, you won’t breathe a word of this.

Not to her or anyone else. Do you hear me?

Do your job. Protect her. I don’t want to hear of this again.

” He bulled past me, his rage so palpable I swore the flocked wallpaper cowered as he passed.

Each stomp rattled the glass sconces in their sockets.

Well, then. If that reaction was anything to go by, Amryssa was indeed a part of this. A very large part.

But Olivian clearly wouldn’t give me a damn thing. I’d have to dig up the truth myself. Wrest his secrets from the crumbling woodwork and assemble them on my own.

Where to start? The library, probably. Our only real repository of information. I’d have to hunt through every book, see if I could find mention of the dagger, or the Lady Marche, or any kind of clue.

I was still standing in the hallway, staring out the window, not really seeing the silver wetness sheeting down the pane, when footsteps approached.

I turned to find Merron. Fatigue and wariness dulled his features.

“Hey.” I reached for his elbow, but he stepped back.

“Your Highness,” he said stiffly.

I winced. Well, his avoidance this past month had definitely been intentional. “Yeah, about that. I?—”

“I just need to know one thing,” he said. “That day, when we were together. Did you know? Had you already decided you were going to marry him that same night?”

My mouth went dry. “Merron...”

“Just tell me.” His eyes shimmered, accusation held at bay. “I need to know what that was. If that was why you told me to forget you, afterward.”

A prickle invaded my throat, and I bought a moment’s delay by squeezing my dagger. Zephyrine, help me.

I’d never meant those words so literally, but now I knew I had a goddess on my hip—one I hadn’t treated with much courtesy, or any deference to speak of. In fact, I’d done an embarrassing amount of swearing in front of her.

The dagger hummed. Yes?

I tried to make up for my heathen ways by adopting a tone of supplication. Tell me what to say to him. Please. I can’t stand making him suffer.

A laugh murmured against my palm and faded.

I frowned. Unhelpful vixen.

The truth it was, then. “Yes, I...knew.”

Pain bled through Merron’s stoicism. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Because you would’ve tried to stop me.” A pleading note snuck into my voice. “You know you would have.”

He swallowed in silence, and if nothing else, I appreciated him not coming out with a denial we both would’ve known to be a lie.

“I deserved better,” he finally said. “From you.”

Oh, goddess. I wanted to pull up the carpet and crawl underneath, then tack it back down to the floorboards. “You did. You absolutely did. And I’m sorry. I hate that I hurt you. I have no excuse. This whole marriage thing was a mistake, and I’m stupid for having done it.”

“Then you...regret it?”

“Deeply.”

He recoiled like I’d delivered an aimed blow. “Goddess, Harlowe, that’s even worse.”

“Worse? What? How?”

“Because.” His brows drew together. He looked so...woebegone, with the silvered light robbing his skin and hair of their rich brown hues. “If you regret marrying him, that makes this whole thing a waste. It means I lost you for nothing. It means I feel this way for no reason.”

My chest caved in. A thousand excuses bubbled in my throat—aspersions on Kyven’s honor, promises of an annulment, denials that I could feel anything for some russet-haired prince of Hightower.

But none of it would’ve helped. I’d ground Merron’s heart to a fine powder, and I couldn’t seem to stop doubling down on that process.

So I said the truest thing possible. “I did it for Amryssa.”

“Amryssa.” A hard wall went up behind his eyes. “Right. Of course.”

Shit. Why had I gone with that? If I stuck my foot into my mouth any further, I’d start digesting it. I tried to explain, but he fended me off with a raised hand.

“Don’t. Just don’t, okay? I don’t want to hear another word about how you’d go to the ends of the earth for her when you refuse to do a single thing for me.”

With a shake of his head, he swept past. I watched him go, my every breath laced with remorse.

Gods among us. I was a terrible, horrible person. No heart to speak of. Which usually came in handy, but with Merron, I always walked away painted in a fresh layer of shame.

And right now, I had never felt so small.