Page 36 of The Nightmare Bride

O f course, tranquility didn’t last beyond the point at which I opened my eyes.

I rolled from bed while Ky still slept, then spent the day mired in dread. The idea of telling Amryssa the truth tied me in knots, because what if she left me?

But I couldn’t bear to lie to her.

I dropped the brush while combing her hair. Twice. Then misaligned her corset and had to re-lace the entire thing. At breakfast, I overfilled her cup and the saucer that caught the runoff, then took her back upstairs to exchange her dress for one that didn’t have tea dribbled all over the skirts.

All the while, knowledge pulsed inside me like a poisoned heartbeat.

Amryssa was Zephyrine’s. And the goddess wanted her back.

By afternoon, my head throbbed, to say nothing of my heart. Up in the cupola, Amryssa read a book while I sweated over the mending. Ky had busied himself in the yard below, lashing together a frame for some leggy tomato plants.

All the energy he’d accumulated during our weeks-long search of the library seemed to be pouring from him at once.

Once he finished with the tomatoes, he weeded the entire vegetable garden, then jogged over to the wood-chopping stump.

The thing saw frequent use, given how much fuel the hot water boilers consumed, and we also had an unending supply of diseased purple wood to dispose of.

Not to mention an axe-wielding prince who apparently had more drive than he knew what to do with.

An exquisitely tempting prince, at that.

I wrenched my gaze away from all those sweat-slicked muscles. Four more days. Then the annulment certificate would arrive, and Ky would cease to be my problem. He wouldn’t be anyone’s problem but his own.

At dinner, Amryssa listlessly pushed bits of trout around her plate. Olivian chewed in silence. Ky sat opposite me, his so-called attendants stationed behind him. Vick glared at the back of Ky’s head as if he could drill a hole into it.

A bite of fish scraped down my throat, but dinner didn’t interest me any more than it did Amryssa. I forked a green bean and dropped it again. What the hell was I going to tell her? What if she refused to go to Hightower, once she knew?

The kitchen door opened.

Miss Quist bustled in, carrying a tray of chipped ramekins filled with thin gray pudding. My eyes shot to Lunk, who straightened.

Goddess, he must be pushing seven feet when he did that. He puffed out his barrel-like chest, making the day’s first smile itch to life on my lips. No way could he hold his breath like that for long, but it’d be fun to watch him try.

Miss Quist distributed the puddings. Rosy color dusted her cheeks. Blonde ringlets framed her face like frizzy wisps of sunshine.

“Dorothea,” Ky said, and I jolted. Since when was he on a first-name basis with our cook? “How lovely to see you.”

Miss Quist’s perennial color flamed higher. “Your Highness.”

“Just Ky,” he said good-naturedly. “How many times do I have to I tell you?”

“At least once more.” She placed a double serving of pudding in front of Amryssa. Lunk tracked her every movement, stars in his eyes.

“You know, Dorothea, I’ve been thinking...” Ky rested his chin on his hand. “It’s been ages since I’ve had a good Snogberry Fizz.”

My brows snapped together. A...what?

“Do you make those here in Oceansgate?”

Miss Quist paused while setting down Olivian’s pudding. “I’ve never heard of such a thing, Your Highness. I’m sorry.”

I slitted my eyes at him and mouthed, What’re you doing? Because I was about a hundred and eighty percent certain Snogberry Fizzes didn’t exist.

Ky winked and blew me an airy kiss. I glanced around, but no one had noticed except Vick, who weighed our exchange with narrow-eyed calculation.

I narrowed my eyes right back, wondering what he’d look like with green beans all over his jerkin. Maybe mashed into that orange hair, too. What was his problem?

“We make them all the time, where I’m from,” Ky was saying. “I’d love to take up the habit again. Maybe you could bring Lunk here back to the kitchen? Have him show you how they’re made?”

Lunk’s besotted expression shifted to one of such transparent alarm that I fought the urge to throw my fork. What was Ky doing? And did he have to be so obvious about it?

But Miss Quist seemed delighted by the idea of the giant remedying her culinary deficiencies.

She pressed a hand to her bosom. “Oh, I’m always up for learning something new.

Come on, Henry, why don’t you carry this tray for me?

Zephyrine knows you’re strong enough to take all the dishes at once.

” She bustled around the table, clearing our plates.

I gaped. Henry? Was that Lunk’s real name? How did she even know that?

Goddess, I needed to pay more attention.

Lunk—Henry?—came dutifully forward, his face flaming, whether because of the impending need to invent a Snogberry Fizz or because Miss Quist had complimented his brawn, I couldn’t say.

But he stoically bore the loaded tray to the kitchen.

The door swung shut behind them, leaving us to our sallow puddings.

Well, then. With the excitement over, I stuck my spoon into my ramekin and swirled. Ky reclined in his chair, those forget-me-not eyes brimming with satisfaction.

What the hell was that? I mouthed.

Pure artistry , he said back, in silence.

I blinked. I couldn’t believe I’d understood that. It was ridiculous .

You loved it .

I hated it , I countered. Almost as much as I hate you .

He shook his head, smug. You love me. What you actually hate is admitting it.

My eyes dived to my pudding, which I’d apparently slopped over the sides of the ramekin with the consummate skill of a two-year-old.

How absurd. Of course I didn’t love him. He didn’t mean it, anyway, not like that .

A fact I repeated over and over in order to keep the wings beneath my heart from erupting into a flurry.

Olivian’s gruff baritone cut through the clink of dinnerware. “What in Zephyrine’s name?” He rose from his chair to glare at the windows.

The heat in my cheeks faded. Outside, the light had dimmed to a dusky caramel, but something purple glowed on the lawn.

I laid an instinctive hand on Amryssa’s shoulder.

I didn’t know whether I meant to shield her or reassure her, but it was just a raggedy little dog out there.

A forked tongue hung from its mouth while two tails twitched behind.

The puppy tottered across the lawn, glowing amethyst.

Ky went to the window. “It’s sick.” Wherever the poor stray had come from, it had picked up the rot on the way.

Olivian grunted. “Kill it.”

My heartbeat turned to mush when I realized who he’d directed the command at. “Who? Me ?”

“Yes, you,” he snapped. “Unless you’d rather Amryssa do the honors?”

I found the hilt of my dagger and squeezed. This prick. If it was so easy, why didn’t he go? Not to mention I’d never killed anything before. Okay, maybe a few billion mosquitoes over the years, but never a diseased puppy. I probably would’ve had an easier time murdering a grown man.

Actually, I’d tried that once, hadn’t I? And look how that little endeavor had turned out.

Ky glared at Olivian. “I’ll do it.” The words were clipped, not at all like his usual.

But the seneschal didn’t seem to notice. “Fine. I don’t care who snaps its neck, so long as the cur doesn’t infect the hens and leave us with poisoned eggs for breakfast.”

Ky opened his mouth, then reconsidered and whisked past me in a rush of cypress-scent and firesmoke.

My head whirled. Partly because of the onslaught of his scent, but also because he’d just volunteered to kill something. To murder a helpless animal. Maybe not because he wanted to spare me, but because he just...wanted to?

Oh, gods.

I pushed back my chair and hurried after him.

The dining room doors swung shut behind me. Down the hall, Ky pushed out through a side exit. Anger tightened his posture, and that, along with the heat and the horribleness of the day, squeezed my throat in a vise grip.

Seven hells, could Eliana have been right, all this time? Had I just refused to see it? Had I let myself develop all these capital-F feelings for a murderer?

I mean, not that I had capital-F feelings. I just...

Oh, for fuck’s sake. I was wasting time.

I reached the door Ky had used and burst out into the muggy evening. He was already halfway across the lawn. When he reached the puppy, he scooped it up without slowing.

A whimper scalded my throat.

Ky hopped over the trench rimming the yard and ducked into the forest. Which made sense—he wouldn’t want to do this in view of the windows. But I needed to see. I had to know, once and for all.

I scrambled after him. At the lawn’s edge, I plunged into the forest, into an alien realm of violet trees and snarled underbrush. The smell of decay weighted the air. I squelched between the ferns and palmettos, one hand atop my dagger.

Ahead, in a clearing, Ky set the puppy down. I ducked behind a corrupted cypress and peeked around its trunk. The dog gazed up, its dual tails flicking, as if undecided on whether to wag or curl between its legs.

Ky knelt. He clamped a hand around the dog’s neck.

My heart plummeted, snagging my stomach on the way down. Shit. Shitshitshit. I didn’t know how best to save the puppy—use the dagger’s magic on Ky? The dog?

But it was already too late. His hand moved, and I winced against the inevitable crunch. When it didn’t come, I opened my eyes to find him...

...petting it?

I loosed the longest breath of my life. Ky ruffled the pup’s fur and, when it capsized in wriggling delight, scratched at its belly. The dog’s twin tails thumped against the ground.

“There now,” Ky crooned. “How about a bit of cheese?”

He dug in his waistcoat and came up with a chunk of white stuff. The dog snarfed the offering without a moment’s pause.

My head lightened, threatening to float off my shoulders. I stepped out from behind the tree, my hand falling from my knife.