Page 6 of The Nightmare Bride

Olivian hesitated. “Lawmen. For one.”

I frowned. In the almost-decade since the nightmares had begun, the bulk of Oceansgate’s populace had trickled away, including the entirety of the police force.

Now, only our most reckless citizens remained, along with a group of lawbreakers who lived in the forest and apparently considered recurrent psychological torture a fair price to pay for lack of legal oversight.

With our patron goddess lost to her divine slumber, Olivian’s territory had devolved into chaos and anarchy, and without a police force at his disposal, there was very little he could do about that.

“But Oceansgate doesn’t have any lawmen,” I said. “Not anymore.”

Olivian grunted. “Not at the moment .”

A pause. Pieces clicked together in my head, and I gaped. This was what he’d sold his daughter for?

“So you intend to barter me?” Amryssa bleated, clearly having reached the same conclusion. “To buy lawmen off the king by joining me to his son, knowing full well what this man will do to me?”

“There’s...so much you don’t understand,” Olivian said. “So much you can’t understand, my sweet.”

My molars grated, my palm itching for my dagger. Seven hells, if he started rhapsodizing about the deficits of the female intellect, I really would stab someone.

“As your father”—Olivian’s fingers flexed, straining toward his daughter—“I’m asking you to trust me.”

“I thought I could .” Moisture pooled in Amryssa’s eyes. “But perhaps I was mistaken.”

Silence. The seneschal reclaimed his spurned hands with visible reluctance. He seemed not to know what to say.

My breath fled, but I would not, under any circumstances, say I told you so . “Private ceremony,” I prompted Amryssa gently. “Remember? You said that’s what you wanted.”

“Right.” She pinned her gaze to her lap, her voice leaden. “I’d like a closed wedding, Father. No guests apart from Harlowe. No other witnesses to this...forced union. You can grant me that, can’t you? At the very least?”

Olivian shot me a thunderous look, as if to say, This is your doing . I shrugged, but my heart knocked against my ribs with such ferocity I swore the whole manor would hear.

If he refused...

“Very well,” he spat, more at me than her. “So long as this wedding happens, I don’t care what form it takes.”

Warmth cascaded through me. Just minutes ago, I’d fantasized about imbuing Amryssa with some backbone, but now I blessed her for her lack of one.

Clearly, there was no room in Olivian’s mind to suspect her of treachery. He simply assumed his daughter would obey, as she always had.

He sat back, swatting Eliana’s letter to the floor. I dove after the fallen sheets and folded them into my skirt pocket.

“The officiant arrives at seven,” Olivian grumbled. “You two will meet him in the library. I suppose this means you’d like to do away with the nuptial feast, as well?”

Amryssa nodded, not looking at him.

I leapt up and tugged her to her feet before facing the seneschal. “Well, that’s settled. You can congratulate her tomorrow. Right now, I need to get her ready.”

He lobbed me a look of pure loathing. “See that you do.”

I responded with a smarmy, insincere smile and steered Amryssa away. She didn’t resist. Her spirit seemed to have forsaken her body, leaving behind a hollow husk that moved when propelled, but had no will of its own.

Upstairs, I holed us up in her bedroom. Someone had apparently come and gone—Amryssa’s wedding gown now hung from the armoire, a complex waterfall of rose satin and white lace.

A groan slipped from my throat. “Goddess, I’m never going to fit into that.”

Amryssa gave no indication of having heard. She drifted toward the window, only stopping when her nose hovered an inch from the pane. She stared out, her expression vacant.

I sighed. “Are you okay?”

Her throat bobbed. “Would you be?”

“Well... No. Probably not.”

Then again, I never would have wound up in her position. I didn’t put faith in people. I didn’t trust. I didn’t hope .

I knew better.

But I couldn’t hold Amryssa’s innate goodness against her, so I went and gathered her into a hug.

She felt birdlike in my arms, as if she might crumble to dust and float away on the wind.

“I’m sorry,” I said into her hair. “I wish I’d been wrong.

But you agreed to do this my way, if I wasn’t.

So let’s get you in the bath. Get you clean. ”

“Me? But why? When you’re the one insisting on getting married?”

“Because. It’s still my job to take care of you.”

Her brow creased. “It shouldn’t be, though. You ought to just let me go. Live your own life.”

I stiffened. “Let you go? But...where?”

“Out there.” Amryssa nodded toward the window. “Into the forest. The swamp.”

I flinched, if only because I knew how deeply she longed for that.

Every time she sat in the cupola and peered out like a butterfly pinned under glass, some broken thing was whispering its devilry inside her.

She daydreamed of slipping among the poisoned cypresses, of crooning to the mutant animals and drinking the diseased water.

But if the brigands living out there didn’t find her, what would happen when the next nightmare came through? Would Amryssa just...willingly join the goddess in her eternal sleep?

No, fuck that. I needed her. Maybe that made me selfish, but my mind couldn’t hold a future that didn’t include my best friend alive and breathing, in which she lightened this dreary house one caring word at a time.

“I can’t let you do that,” I said.

“Why not?” Something like despair rimmed her voice.

“Because,” I said. “You saved me. You’re the only person who’s ever even given a shit, and I need you. Everyone does. You’re the only bright spot in this entire messed-up place.”

Her lips pressed together. “Is this really what you want, though? To just...save me from myself, over and over again? This is enough for you?”

I held her eyes. “Yes. It’s enough.”

Amryssa sighed, then turned back to the window. An age seemed to pass before she spoke again.

“Then I suppose I’ll have that bath, now. If that’s what truly makes you happy.”