Page 156 of The Nightmare Bride
She eyed the offering without enthusiasm. “I hope you’re eating, too, Harlowe. You must feel every bit as grim as I do.”
My lips crooked. Her kindness never failed, but the more I ate, the less there’d be for her. “Don’t worry about me.”
“But I do. Of course I do.”
“That’s not your job,” I said gently. “Just eat. Get your energy back.”
She smiled up at me, and I hovered, hesitant to sit back down. Standing over her like this felt...right, somehow. Like I could shield her from her father’s machinations, maybe even from the toxic marsh outside. Beyond the windows, thecypresses threw their noxious purple glow, visible even in the broad light of day.
“Take my biscuit, at least.” Amryssa transferred a pastry from her plate to mine. “Please?”
The doors opened.
My battered body snapped to attention. I braced for a panicked housemaid, but a group of strangers sauntered in, instead. And there stood not one, not two, butthreepeople I didn’t recognize. All of them very much alive.
Fuck.
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.
“Isthiswhere 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?Isawyou 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 unearthedthatpretty 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’rethe 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.”
