Page 8 of The Nightmare Bride

“You know that’s not what I mean.” He yanked a hand through his hair, mussing it even more than my groping fingers already had.

“You’re so incredibly loyal, it’s what I love about you, but it’s all for Amryssa.

Never for me, or even for yourself. It’s like you don’t care that I’ve asked you to leave.

You don’t trust that I’d take care of you, but I would.

I’d build you a house somewhere. Get you out of Oceansgate, away from Olivian and this half-mad girl he’s hung around your neck.

I’d give you everything, if you’d just let me. ”

“Amryssa’s not a chore,” I snapped, ignoring the rest. “She’s my friend.”

He shook his head. “She isn’t. She’s never done a thing for you.”

My teeth clamped together. Amryssa had done more for me than anyone else had, including my so-called parents. Especially my so-called parents. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?”

“No.”

“Then tell me. Explain this hold she has over you. And why I can’t break it, no matter what I do.”

I stalked to an armchair and pulled a moth-eaten throw off the back, wrapping it around myself despite the sweat dampening my skin. “I don’t owe you my story, Merron. I don’t owe you anything.”

He ground his jaw, visibly frustrated, and I relented.

“Look.” I ventured over and stood between his knees. “You might think you want me, but you don’t. Not really.”

He hooked his hands behind my thighs, not seeming to care that he wore not a single stitch of clothing. Soulful chestnut eyes pleaded with mine. “How can you say that? How can you presume to know what I want better than I do?”

“Because.” I sighed. “If I ran away with you, you’d regret it.

Maybe not right away, or even in a year.

But eventually, you’d meet some other woman who’s more beautiful and kind-hearted than I am.

Someone who’s less work. Less trouble, less.

..everything. And then I’d become the stone around your neck.

This is me doing you a favor, trust me.”

He rested his forehead against my midsection and hugged my legs, nearly toppling me. “You have no idea what you are, do you? Or what we could be if you’d just...try.”

I swallowed thickly and ran my hands through his hair. “You have no idea how misplaced your faith in me is.”

His shoulders bunched as he squeezed me tighter, but nothing much remained for us to say. When he finally let go, I kissed him—a kind of farewell only I understood—and watched him dress. He moved stiffly, hurt rising off him in waves.

Sourness pummeled my stomach, but how could he not realize his devotion was simply bred by circumstance? We were trapped here, repeatedly pushed to the brink of sanity, and it was enough to confuse the best of men. To make anyone who could achieve a basic level of functioning look good.

But if I went with Merron, the adoration in his eyes would inevitably dim.

Maybe he’d relish our life, at first. He’d build us a cottage where we would kiss and bicker and fuck like rabbits, but in time, he’d discover my sharp edges.

He would come to know the real Harlowe, and his smiles would fade.

He’d turn his back at night instead of cradling me in his arms.

He’d leave me. Even if he didn’t go anywhere.

And I’d had more than enough of that.

So I knelt and helped him with his boots, then resisted when he tried to grab at my waist. This whole thing had been a mistake. I’d let my selfish desires overcome my good sense, and I hated myself for it.

“You should forget me,” I said as he went to the door. “I’m no good for you, Merron. I never will be.”

His jagged expression made it clear I’d just eviscerated him.

Still, I soldiered onward, for his sake, if not my own. “You should escape, like you said. Leave Oceansgate and don’t look back. Go marry some woman who never gets angry and has birthing hips and wants nothing more than to make you armfuls of babies. Someone who actually deserves you.”

He scowled. “ You have birthing hips.”

A downward glance confirmed my unsettling new narrowness. “Not at the moment.”

“Well,” he said. “Those, you should definitely put back.”

“I will. But right now, you should go lie down. Get some sleep. You’ll feel better afterward, I promise.”

“I’m not giving up, you know,” he said. “Not until you leave Oceansgate without me. Or marry someone else.”

I masked my sudden bolt of unease by rewrapping the blanket. He had no idea how soon that day would come. That it already had. “You should go. And...I’m sorry. Really.”

“Well, I’m not.” He cast me a long look, then retreated. His boots thudded against the hallway carpet and faded.

I shut my door harder than necessary and rested my forehead against the carven whorls. What the hell had I just done? I’d gouged a canyon into him a mile wide, and I would do so much worse before the day ended.

I clenched my jaw until it ached, then whirled and plumbed the pocket of my crumpled dress until I found Eliana’s letter. The sheets rasped as I unfolded them.

As ever, the words opened a cold black space inside me.

My dearest Harlowe,

I pray this letter reaches you ahead of its subject, though I regret not writing with better news.

I’ve arrived safely in the capital, which is as beautiful as everyone says.

Hightower City is like nothing I’ve ever seen, full of bright white spires and marble avenues wide enough to get lost in.

But I won’t bore you with the particulars.

They’re not important, not in the face of what I’ve learned.

As you asked, I’ve devoted my time here to chasing news of Prince Kyven. I was even lucky enough to finagle a meeting with the man himself. My sister has a son who frequents the same gentleman’s club as the prince, and she was kind enough to arrange a “chance” encounter in the street out front.

At first blush, Kyven impressed me. He kissed my hand, and I was immediately taken in by his impeccable manners and bright blue eyes.

When he smiled, heads turned across the street.

And I hoped, then. I wanted to believe Olivian had found a proper match for our Amryssa. Someone who might make her happy.

But my joy soon turned to horror. On his way into the club, the prince brushed shoulders with an emerging gentleman, and an unmistakable look of revulsion came over this stranger’s face.

Of course, I pursued the man and asked what he knew.

At first, he tried to brush me off, but when I explained my purpose, he opened up, albeit reluctantly.

His story is too awful to relate in its entirety, but I’ll paint it in broad strokes, because I know you need to know.

Prince Kyven is a monster. This man told me they’d been childhood friends, until the prince developed a.

..fascination, we’ll call it, with pain.

Namely with inflicting it. As Kyven grew, he left behind a trail of little deaths—defenseless creatures who met their ends at the point of a carving knife—and later, some not-so-little deaths.

The gentleman refused to go into detail about those. Forgive an old woman, but I’m grateful for it.

As he spoke, my heart slid out through a hole in the bottom of my stomach.

Afterward, I wandered back to my sister’s house in a daze, wondering if I’d unwittingly ensnared myself in some kind of gentleman’s spat.

But that evening, when I asked my nephew about the prince, his whole countenance changed, and I knew the accusations had merit.

Her son wouldn’t go into specifics, except to say he’d once seen the prince leave a ball with a well-known seneschal’s daughter.

The girl went missing that same night. Days later, she turned up in an old, sealed-up boardinghouse across the city, with all manner of cuts and bruises she refused to explain.

No charges were filed.

No charges have ever been filed, despite the trail of crimes the prince has left across Hightower City.

You see, everyone is afraid. No one will risk saying anything about Kyven where royal ears might hear, so people turn a blind eye. As such, the prince has never answered for his crimes. Nor will he ever, I expect.

What unsettles me is how very charming he was.

When I met Kyven in Burdock Street, he struck me as warm and charismatic.

He looked so poised, wearing his beautiful clothes, dazzling me with that auburn hair and the twinkle in his eye.

To think he could then commit such evils under the cover of darkness can only lead me to believe he has no soul.

So there you have it. The results of my investigation, such as they are. Be forewarned, Harlowe, and be careful. The prince will fool even you. But you must do whatever necessary to keep our sweet girl unharmed. If anyone can protect her, it’s you.

I think you understand what I’m saying, do you not?

Give Amryssa my love, and I breathlessly await your reply,

Eliana Weatherby

I crushed the paper to my bosom. Wounding Merron had infused me with doubt, but now the letter crystallized my resolve once more.

I wouldn’t let Kyven touch Amryssa. I wouldn’t let him touch anyone, ever again.

Except me. And only once.

I dropped my blanket and went to the bathroom, then opened the taps to the hammered-copper tub. Steaming water cascaded into the basin. I stepped in, not caring that my skin pinked and sizzled in moments.

I washed my hair to gleaming, then scrubbed every inch of skin and soaked for so long that I grew waterlogged, my fingertips puckered.

When I emerged, I toweled dry, then went to go shove myself into Amryssa’s wedding dress.

The same dress I would wear when I committed murder tonight.