Page 43 of The Nightmare Bride

K y didn’t make it to dinner that evening, occupied as he was with the battle out on the lawn. Neither did Vick, though obviously for different reasons.

After the meal, I tracked down Lunk in the library, mostly in an effort to gauge whether or not Vick had survived.

When I asked about his absence, Lunk only shrugged. “He wasn’t feeling well. I think he went to bed early.”

“Oh. Is that all?”

“Yes. Why?” He held a hand over his mouth, like he always did when speaking to me. He didn’t do that with Amryssa, but no surprise there—she was divine, while I was just...me. “Did you need something? Should I wake him?”

I shook my head, my nerve endings buzzing. It would probably be too murdery to pray that Vick never wake again, but I went ahead and did it anyway.

“No.” I tried to sound casual. “Just wondering.”

Lunk made to move off, but I caught at his wrist. His arm was too substantial for me to circle entirely, but he got the idea and stopped. “Is there something else, keymistress?”

“Yes.” I chewed at my lip. “It’s just...seems like you and Miss Quist have gotten close, and I want you to know how happy that makes me. She deserves a man like you. Someone good.”

Crimson flared in his cheeks. “Well, she’s amazing,” he said. “Not just beautiful, but industrious. And kind. So incredibly kind.”

I risked a smile. “Then I hope you’ll stay with us. With her.”

He ducked his head. “I’d like that. It’s just...” His gaze slid away.

When I he didn’t continue, I frowned. “What?”

He rummaged in his pocket and produced a compact book. It was Miss Quist’s favorite—I recognized the sapphire cover, the scuffed and twice-cracked spine.

“I don’t know that I’m what she wants.” Lunk smiled bleakly, then opened the book and handed it over. I inspected the page, which showed a curvy woman embracing her fierce-eyed pirate lover. The hero had flowing black hair, brown skin, and glistening muscles.

“She lent this to me, but...” Lunk gestured at the drawing. “See? It’s her.”

I blinked. Huh. The heroine did indeed resemble Miss Quist, complete with blonde corkscrew curls and rosy cheeks. I couldn’t believe I’d never noticed before. “Wow. It is.”

He pointed at the pirate. “But Captain Dash...” He trailed off, and I could practically hear him proclaiming he could never compete with the pirate lord.

“I think this might be her way of letting me down easy,” he said.

I snapped the thing shut and handed it back. “No. She’s not like that, and besides. It’s just a book.”

“It’s not just a book. Believe me, when you look like this”—he waved to indicate his face—“you grow up believing in the fictional world more than the one around you. In some ways, it’s more real. More just.”

I fell silent, not knowing what to do with that.

I hadn’t grown up around books. I’d cut my teeth on pure survival, on endless worries about which berry bush would ripen first and how many mussels I could dig up to trade for candles.

I hadn’t encountered the luxury of literature until I’d joined Olivian’s household and Eliana had taught me to read.

And while I thoroughly enjoyed books, I’d never considered them a haven, the way Lunk apparently did.

“But they’re just stories,” I said slowly. “Idealized versions of life, not the real thing. Because in the real world, good men wear all kinds of faces. Miss Quist knows that as well as I do.”

A sad smile stole over his features. “That’s easy for you to say when...well, when you look like that.” He made a vague, complimentary gesture in my direction.

I trailed my fingertips across the features I’d chosen. “Well. To be honest, I didn’t always look like this. I was born plain. Less than plain, actually.”

His brow furrowed. “You...what?”

“I know. It sounds strange, but Zephyrine gave me a...gift. One that lets me remake myself however I like. I might look like this now, but I didn’t used to. I spent years being invisible.”

He blinked at me.

I stepped closer, an idea sparking. I’d never reshaped anyone else’s face, only my own, but why wouldn’t it work the same way? “Actually, I could do the same for you, if you want. If you’d rather look like”—I gestured at the book—“someone else. Or some slightly different version of yourself.”

He stared, nonplussed. Clearly, that was a lot to take in.

“I’m not trying to talk you into anything. Just making an offer. Here, watch.”

I palmed the hilt of my dagger. Zephyrine awoke, her warmth bristling against my skin. Guilt needled at me, some rational part of me cringing at using the goddess’s power while also plotting to keep her daughter from her, but I pushed the feeling aside. This was for Lunk, not me.

I passed a hand over my eye, letting the magic seep in, changing one dark iris to shimmering green.

At least, I hoped I had. I’d never done this without a mirror before. But apparently it worked, because the giant’s bronze cheeks went stark white.

He opened his mouth, closed it again. “That’s...witchcraft?” He sounded strangled.

I changed my eye back to its preferred brown and released the dagger. “No. It’s Zephyrine’s magic. I just get to borrow it.”

“I...”

I waited. Maybe I shouldn’t have shown him that, but something about this man felt so irrefutably safe. Moreover, Ky trusted him. So did Amryssa. Which meant I did, too.

“I’ve never seen anyone wield magic before,” he finally said. “You’re saying you’d share that with me?”

“I would.”

He contemplated the book, then tucked it back into his pocket. Conflict warred in his expression. “That’s kind of you. I just...don’t know if I could trust it.”

“It’s not painful. And if you didn’t like how it looked, I could always change it back.”

“No.” His jutting brow crinkled. “I mean, I don’t know if I could trust how people would treat me.

It’s funny. If you’d asked me a year ago, or maybe even a month, I would’ve jumped at the chance.

But meeting Dorothea... It’s made me wonder if someone might actually see me, someday.

Really see me. If I looked like Captain Dash, I’m not convinced I’d ever know for sure. ”

I let that sink in. That was...wow. Admirable. “I get it. But let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

He smiled, his whole face softening. “I will. And thank you.”

“Of course.”

I moved off. I didn’t know what had possessed me to bring all that up, only that the prospect of tomorrow didn’t seem nearly as certain as it had this morning.

Upstairs, I readied Amryssa for bed, but the events of the day formed a dark, sucking hole beneath my feet.

What would Vick do once the effects of my assault wore off? Would he come after me? Ruin Amryssa’s wedding?

Bile slicked the back of my throat. I was such an idiot. I should never have pissed him off like that, except he’d threatened me and I’d just...lost myself. Seen red.

Now I drew up Amryssa’s coverlet and extinguished her lamp. After locking her door, I made for my room, hoping to find Ky waiting.

But the bed was empty.

My heart slid into the bottom of my stomach. A glance outside confirmed he was still hard at work with the stewards, digging up the glowing bits of rot they’d missed during daylight. From the looks of it, they’d be out there for another few hours.

I grumbled and changed into my gauziest nightgown, then tried to read. But the words swam before my eyes, and I eventually lowered the book, my head swirling.

Vick. The liberators. Ky. Whatever he’d tried to tell me in the swamp yesterday taunted me—I had all the pieces now, I could feel it. But they were jumbled and out of order, and no amount of mental rearranging produced a sensible answer.

With a scoff, I tossed my book aside. Ky would tell me his big secret as soon as he came upstairs, and it would probably be something stupid.

Something that wouldn’t change anything, because nothing would change anything.

We’d annul our marriage, then he’d marry Amryssa and leave.

I’d take her to Hightower, and that would be that.

I just had to make sure Vick didn’t screw it up.

A knock broke the silence, and I frowned. That wasn’t Merron’s signature pattern. And Ky would’ve come right in.

Sure enough, when I opened the door, Olivian loomed in the hallway. He held out a letter—one with an ornate seal stamped across the front.

My heart splattered against my ribs, then went quiet.

The annulment certificate. Three days earlier than expected.

I made no move to take it. Instead, I just stood there, wondering how something so innocuous could wield such power.

“Well?” Olivian said. “I don’t have all night.”

I shook off my stupor and grabbed the thing, resisting the urge to pinch it by a corner, like I would a rat dangling by its tail.

“Sign it and give it back to me tomorrow,” he said.

I forced myself to respond. “Okay. Sure.”

“Amryssa will be married first thing in the morning. And this time, I will attend.” He gave me a significant look, which he shouldn’t have bothered with, considering I was the last person in this house who would interfere. “And Harlowe, this is still valid, isn’t it?”

I missed a beat, but his meaning quickly became clear. “If you’re asking whether I’ve lost control of myself and had some kind of sex marathon with the prince, then no. Of course I haven’t. Don’t be ridiculous.”

He gave me a narrow look. “It would require far less than a marathon.”

I grumbled. “Exactly zero sex has taken place.”

He grunted, but seemed satisfied. “Good. Fine. Then sign this, and have Kyven do the same. Your marriage will be dissolved the moment that certificate has two signatures on it. And whatever you do, don’t lose the damn thing.”

I heaved an exhale. “Where would I lose it, Olivian? Down the front of my nightgown?”

He shot me a look that would have sent a younger Harlowe scurrying for the corner. “Just don’t screw this up again.”

“Trust me, I have no desire to. I’ll be there tomorrow with bells on.”

He grunted again and traipsed off, scrubbing a hand through the mess atop his head.

I watched him go, wondering if he cut his hair himself or if someone did that to him on purpose.

The black locks stuck out at all angles and all different lengths, like each one had been hacked off at a random interval.

The seneschal reached the spiral stairway, then disappeared downward.

With all distractions removed, I had no choice but to confront the letter in my hands.

The seal had already been slit, and I thumbed it open to find a document nullifying the unconsummated marriage of one Harlowe X and His Royal Highness Prince Kyven Windermere, on the grounds of “deceitful claims on the part of the bride.”

Well. I couldn’t argue with that. Not that the king needed to be so snooty about it.

At the bottom of the paper, dual signature lines awaited—two long, bare marks that stretched like these endless hallways.

I coughed out a cold laugh, slammed my door, and scrounged for a pen at my vanity. This document was the key to Amryssa’s future, absent only a few dashes of ink.

I spread the parchment on the vanity and stared at it. A minute passed. Then another.

But I managed, in the end. I signed the damn thing and went to bed, leaving the annulment certificate folded on Ky’s pillow.

He finally came in sometime around midnight.

At least, that was my best guess, because I was drifting in the velvet reaches of sleep when sounds infiltrated my awareness—first the click of a latch, then the rustle of paper.

I surfaced, mostly, and lay unmoving. Ky was somewhere nearby, obviously aiming for stealth, but when footsteps shuffled and hinges creaked, I gave in and cracked an eye.

He stood in the bathroom doorway, his outline blurred by the candleglow from within. He was filthy, coated in bits of grass, his hair a sticky, sweaty mess.

Gods help me, he’d never looked more enticing.

At the thought, a silent scream hollowed me out. This man would cease to belong to me in a matter of hours.

Or...minutes, actually. Maybe even seconds. He held the annulment certificate and pen, staring down as if he’d never encountered anything like them before. Which, I guessed, he hadn’t.

He glanced up at me.

I rammed my eyes shut. The silence did its utmost to crush me, but Ky must not have caught me looking, because long seconds ticked past in which he didn’t say anything. Neither did I.

Because sweet Zephyrine, I wasn’t ready.

I hadn’t expected the annulment certificate so soon, and I couldn’t face the prospect of talking it over with him.

Not tonight. If I did, I’d have to find some way to smile.

To shrug, nonchalant, and keep from yanking the pen from his hand.

Keep myself from throwing it out the fucking window.

Because goddess, I just wanted one more night. One more chance to wake up in his arms before I had to give him away for good.

Except...then a new thought elbowed its way to the forefront of my mind.

Once Ky signed the annulment, anything could happen. I could spend all night beneath him, and it would amount to nothing more than mindless pleasure for us both. It would no longer be the irrevocable binding I’d done my damnedest to avoid.

My heartbeat crested in my throat, forceful enough to bruise, and I opened my eyes, intending to tell him to sign the thing and come to bed already, sweat and grime be damned.

But he’d closed the bathroom door. Seams of candlelight glowed around the frame. Metal squeaked within, followed by the muted thunder of water falling into the tub.

I lay there, contemplating, for much, much longer than I should have.

But I was being stupid. Surrendering to him wouldn’t come for free. Of course it wouldn’t.

In the end, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep again—the only course of action that wouldn’t bring consequences with it.