Page 171 of The Nightmare Bride
Not that it would ever happen now, and not that Kyven needed to know that. “Are you sure you weren’t getting lost in your own reflection?”
At my jibe, an appreciative spark flared in his eyes. “Tempting as that was, my wife was waiting for me. And I’m far more interested in admiring her than myself.”
Wife.My breath hitched, but he said no more, only began a slow perusal of the room. At my vanity, he lifted a long-dry perfume bottle and sniffed at the nozzle with the entitled air of a man handling his own possessions. By the window, he ran a forefinger along the sill and inspected it for dust, then directed his attention outside.
He studied the forest’s spectral purple glow, his face inscrutable.
I lay there, tension vibrating through me. What was he doing? Why this studied inventory of my life?
“This place is lavish,” he murmured. “You’re fortunate. Though I suppose you’d have no way to know that.”
I frowned. Iwasfortunate, and absolutely knew it, but any prince of Hightower should see a long-faded bloom, a house whose glory days were so far past they’d flaked away to dust and collected beneath the baseboards.
Why did nothing about this man line up with expectations? Even Eliana’s letter hadn’t prepared me for...this.
Kyven took a seat on the empty side of the bed. He plucked a book from my nightstand and leafed through the pages, then swiveled to face me, brow raised.
“A romance?” His tone struck a balance between teasing and surprise. “You? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
I searched for my voice. “Why? Do I not seem like a reader?”
“Oh, I’d never cast doubts on your intellect. I just hadn’t taken you for the love story type. You seem too...fiery for that.”
My head spun. Now we were talking about...my reading habits?
“Lunk will like you, at any rate,” he said.
“Lunk,” I repeated dumbly.
“Mmm-hmm. He adores romances. Is this one any good? You’ll have to recommend it to him, if so.”
“Because Lunk...reads romances?”
“Oh, yes. Endlessly. He’ll bend your ear in half, if you aren’t careful.” He made an elegant gesture in the air. “He’s constantly trying to relate the plotline of his latest obsession to me. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to remind him I prefer tolivemy love stories.”
I couldn’t help it—I scoffed.
“What?” Kyven looked at me askance. “I don’t seem like a man who falls in love?”
I nearly bit through my tongue trying to keep from answeringthatquestion.
“Because I do,” he said. “Oftentimes I fall in love in the evening, then out of it again by sunrise.” He flipped a page and let out a hum of approval. Judging by his place in the book, I guessed he’d landed on the spiciest passage, the one I’d read so many times I’d lost count.
“I...see,” he said as he scanned the lines. “Perhaps the love aspect isn’t what interests you most?”
The tips of my ears burned. “There’s more to romances than just the ‘love aspect.’”
“Clearly.” Kyven flicked the page, where I’d pressed in a dog-ear for easy reference. “It’s enough to make me suspect you’re no blushing maiden.”
I should have denied that, because Amryssa was as virginal as a snowdrop in its first bloom. But I needed to do something—anything—to break this awful tension. To shock the smile off his face so we could get on with it. “I’m afraid not.”
His expression melted into one of...appreciation? “Oh, thank Hyperion.”
Hyperion.Hightower’s bright, sunny patron god—a deity who probably dispensed blessings like candy, given that he hadn’t spent the last decade sleeping. His name sounded so incongruous here, inside Zephyrine’s crumbling walls. Like it had taken a wrong turn and lost its way.
But even the unfamiliar invocation couldn’t dull my surprise. Here in Oceansgate, bridal purity had fallen from favor along with things like lawfulness and taxes, but last I’d checked, the notion had been alive and well in Hightower. Especially among the monarchy.
“That’s...fine with you?” I ventured.
