Page 4 of The Nightmare Bride

My stomach hollowed out. On the right stood last night’s carriage driver, probably the largest man.

..well, ever. His size hinted at obscene strength, but a healthy layer of fat hid the specifics.

His leather vest topped a white shirt that stretched against an impressive paunch, and his skin was as brown as Merron’s.

But his eyes were darker, like chips of coal set beneath protruding brows.

A thick lower lip jutted out in an underbite so severe I wondered how he managed to eat.

On the left stood the smallest—not a woman, as I’d guessed, but a fox-faced man with an orange ponytail and a frame nearly as spare as Amryssa’s. His attire mirrored the giant’s, but with the addition of a shortsword at his side.

So Kyven’s attendants had lived. And as for the prince...

My heartbeat spiked, bullying its way up my throat.

The third man stood at ease, looking every inch the royal, his snowy shirtsleeves billowing from a green-and-gold waistcoat.

Glossy red-brown hair swept over his forehead, setting off angular features and a narrow jaw.

Blocky brows made a dramatic frame for his eyes, and.

..goddess, those eyes. I’d never seen anything like them.

They were of the lightest possible blue, like the palest slice of sky in the coldest hour of dawn.

His gaze connected with mine.

My blood lurched, the feeling akin to taking an arrow in the chest. Prince Kyven was the most striking man I’d ever seen, and I hated him immediately.

“Is this where that delectable aroma is coming from?” His voice was smooth, his vowels round with the musicality of someone born and bred in the capital. Such pretty camouflage to hide the viper beneath. “It seems we’ve tracked down breakfast at last, boys.”

“But you...died.” The accusation plummeted from my lips. Over in the corner, a grandfather clock ticked, trying and failing to chip away at my disbelief. “Last night.”

“Did I?” The prince rolled his shoulders, his expression distinctly amused. “In that case, I can’t imagine why everyone makes such a fuss about this whole mortality business. I’ve never felt better.”

The coffee in my belly curdled. “But... How? I saw you last night, in the drive. You never could’ve gotten inside in time.” Shit, I shouldn’t admit that in front of Olivian, but what did it matter now?

One corner of the prince’s lips lifted. Goddess, what a stupid smile. Its lopsidedness made me want to hurl my dagger across the table. Tack up the other half of his mouth with my blade, just to make it match.

“It was an interesting night, I’ll give you that. Yet here I am. Prince Kyven Windermere, of Hightower, at your service.” He sketched a bow, then scanned the room with those sickeningly pale eyes, clearly expecting introductions.

Hot tears invaded my throat. This couldn’t be happening. Kyven was dust. Amryssa was free. Just minutes ago, our future had looked so... tolerable. But now?

Bleak. Dark. Horrible.

Olivian roused from his stupor. Apparently, my confession had passed him by, because he stood without so much as glancing my way.

“Welcome to Oceansgate, Your Highness. I’m the Seneschal Olivian Marche. Allow me to introduce my daughter, Amryssa”—he waved a sausage-fingered hand in our direction—“and her keymistress, Harlowe.”

Kyven took our measure, his attention so keen my heart kicked against my ribs. “Keymistress?” he said. “Dare I ask what that is? I can’t say I’ve heard the term in Hightower.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. Consider it something like.

..an attendant, nothing more.” Olivian sniffed, conveying his opinion of me with ruthless clarity.

“It’s Harlowe’s job to look after Amryssa, primarily when we have incidents such as last night’s.

Which hopefully didn’t tax you or your companions too greatly.

At any rate, you can become acquainted with your bride over breakfast. I have some business to attend to, so I can’t stay, but make yourselves comfortable. Eat as much as you like.”

My jaw slackened. Where had Olivian unearthed that pretty speech? His pretentions might even have convinced me, if not for the way he kept glancing at the torchier as if it might spring to life and bite him.

“Very well, then.” The prince stepped aside, allowing the seneschal to make his escape.

The doors banged shut. In the ensuing silence, Kyven’s attention strayed to me, then the furrows I’d clawed into my flesh.

“So. You’re the one who advised me to die screaming last night.

I hope you won’t hold my continued existence against me.

You might actually find me charming, if given half a chance. ”

My throat worked, but no sound came out.

What was happening? How was he even standing here, alive and breathing and lauding his own virtues, no less?

And how did he look so infuriatingly...healthy, his cheeks flush with color, his clothes as fresh as if he hadn’t spent a night thrashing in physical and psychological agony?

How could he possibly seem so unconcerned ?

Something tugged at my hand. I broke from the prince’s gaze to find wan fingers clutching mine.

“I’m not hungry.” Amryssa spoke so faintly I had to strain to catch the words. “I think I’d rather go, if that’s all right with you.”

“Oh, don’t leave on my account.” The prince smirked, then sauntered to the sideboard and heaped food onto his plate as if this were just another morning.

As if we had plenty to spare. His attendants followed suit, clearly more interested in the spread than us.

“If you’ll forgive my saying so, you both look a bit.

..piqued, and I’m a staunch believer in the power of bacon to cure all ills. ”

I curled a fist against the table and tried to tame the sting crowding my eyes. I needed strength. I needed to fix this.

I needed to kill this man.

Kyven claimed a seat at the table—the head of the table, the pompous ass—and slid Olivian’s untouched plate aside. He attacked his spoils with the vigor of a teenage boy, though he had to have been pushing thirty.

“Mmmfffph.” He groaned through a mouthful of eggs in an incredibly unprincely manner. “Heavenly.”

I grimaced. His companions set upon their plates with equal enthusiasm, proving the giant did, indeed, have difficulty chewing. Flecks of biscuit showered the man’s jerkin, which he made up for with the sheer volume of food he shoveled into his mouth.

Selfish jerks, the lot of them. Where did they think this all came from?

“Please,” Amryssa whimpered. “I just...need a moment.”

Kyven met my eyes. “Is our presence distressing her?” He nodded toward Amryssa, his smile softening into the sort one might direct at a child.

That show of tenderness wakened a billowing rage inside me. Did he think I was an idiot? I hadn’t forgotten the icy glint of his eyes or the tortured warp of his claws, and now I recognized every word as fabricated, designed to project a humanity he didn’t possess.

Amryssa’s old tutor, Eliana, had warned me of this. She’d sent a letter weeks ago, telling me how Kyven mimicked a real person—he spoke the right words, followed the proper etiquette. Then he unleashed his malevolence in darkened rooms and dusty attics, where no one would hear the screaming.

“What was your name again?” Kyven asked Amryssa. “Harlowe, was it?”

Every cell in my body shrieked at me to shield my friend, to stop him from sullying her with a glance, but his question riveted me in place.

He’d just called her by my name. Which meant he thought I was...

Amryssa?

My mind spun, but the mystery unraveled in moments. Of course—he’d walked in, noted my proximity to Olivian and our similar complexions, and assumed I was the seneschal’s daughter. Not to mention Amryssa had been serving food onto my plate.

I held my breath, weighing the ways in which I could use this. The passing joke I’d shared with Amryssa last night—that tender jest about marrying the prince myself—became as functional and pointed as a blade in my hand.

Gods help me, I could do it. Actually do it. Rather than trussing up my friend like a lamb for the slaughter, I could give Kyven a bride who would go to the marriage bed with a dagger on her belt and hate in her heart.

I could spare Amryssa all of it—the screams, the blood, the gurgling. Maybe I could even spare myself. When the prince inevitably tried to hurt me, I’d be well within my rights to stab him. And self-defense didn’t carry the same penalties as murder.

Heat crackled in my veins. Amryssa’s biscuit still waited on my plate, so I crammed it into my mouth and chased it down with coffee. Strength bloomed in my belly, sharpening my focus.

“My keymistress is...delicate,” I finally said. “She’s still recovering from last night.”

I glanced sidelong at Amryssa, a plea not to undermine my lie, but she only stared at the table. Goddess, we needed to escape this so-called breakfast, and quickly. I could sort out the details of bride-swapping later.

“I understand,” Kyven said. “But you needn’t fear Lunk, here.” He jerked a thumb at the giant. “He’s far more harmless than he looks.”

The big man—Lunk, apparently, and what the hell kind of name was that for a royal attendant?—grinned, exposing yellowed, broken teeth. An unbridgeable chasm separated the bottom row from the top.

I fought back a grimace. He didn’t look harmless. He looked like he could clobber me to death with one half-hearted punch.

“Vick is significantly less harmless, but he’ll do as I tell him.” Kyven smirked as if amused by that, then indicated Foxface. “For now, at least. Though you’ll find he’s allergic to things like small talk. And rules.”

Vick sized me up with eyes as sharp as fresh-cut emeralds. His gaze seemed to take in...far too much.

A shiver skated down my spine. I escaped it by wrenching my attention back to Kyven.

“And you?” I couldn’t keep the bite from my tone. “Should I fear you , my prince?”

His features slackened in what could only be feigned surprise. “Me? Oh, no, I’m perfectly safe. Unless you’re threatened by a cunning wit and devastating good looks.”

I only barely withheld my scoff. He was good, I’d give him that. Almost passable as a real, live human. I’d probaby have been fooled, if not for Eliana’s warnings. “Right,” I said. “Well, this has been delightful, but I seem to have lost my appetite. If you’ll excuse me.”

We needed out. Screw the food, screw the prince, screw the crooked smile I wanted to slap right off his face. I tugged Amryssa to her feet, propelling her toward the door with barely restrained urgency, as if our lives depended on it.

Hers actually might, which was close enough for me.

“My Lady?”

I pretended not to hear. I yanked open the doors and steered Amryssa through, but the prince called after me again.

I closed my eyes for an overlong moment before turning. “What?”

“It was a pleasure making your acquaintance.” Kyven winked. Actually fucking winked at me, the snake.

Revulsion swelled in my throat as my attention dropped to his hands. No claws, this time. Just normal, human hands, one clasped loosely around his breakfast knife.

Kill yourself , I commanded, my fingers clamped around my dagger. Take that knife and stab yourself in the throat .

Kyven’s brow crinkled. He brought the blade haltingly toward his neck.

Sparks exploded in my bloodstream as I waited. Closer, closer... But no. The prince only itched his Adam’s apple and lowered the knife again. My dagger went silent in my hand.

Well, shit. It had been worth a try.

Kyven offered me another one-sided smile. Goddess, didn’t he know how to do anything else? “Marry you later, then?”

“Right.” I summoned a blinding, artificial cheer. “Marry you later. Can’t wait.”

I turned and fled.