Page 217 of The Nightmare Bride
My breathing grew shallow. Maybe Altheahadleft on her own. Maybe she’d taken her family and fled. Maybe Kyven whispering to Vick was just a coincidence, and?—
“What in Zephyrine’s name are you doing?”
I whirled.
Olivian stood in the hall, his head lowered, his stance wide, like a bull on the precipice of charging. “Why aren’t you two back downstairs with the others?”
I backed away. Anywhere else, I would’ve held my ground, but here? An image flashed—of that poor steward, mottled and air-starved, Olivian’s hands around his neck.
Goddess, I never should’ve come near the Lady Marche’s room.
Kyven stepped in front of me. “This door’s locked. It’s the last place we have left to search, but we can’t get in.”
“Because it’s private.” Every line of Olivian’s body was strained to breaking.
“Well, you did say every room.” Kyven sniffed. “If there were exceptions, you should’ve specified.”
“There’re exceptions,” Olivian hissed. I’d never heard that tone from him—as cold and sibilant as a blade being drawn. “No one comes near this door. Not the keymistress, not even a prince.”
Kyven drew himself up. His height didn’t equal the seneschal’s, but heheldhimself like a much taller man. And he was still plenty big enough for me to hide behind, thank Zephyrine.
“Very well.” He sounded almost...bored. “The thrill of playing hide and seek was wearing thin, anyway.”
With that, he took my arm and guided me away. I went, too shaken to protest. I doubted he had any idea how close that had come to violence.
Back downstairs, everyone had reassembled. I calmed my trembling breaths and said a prayer for Althea. No one had found her, apparently, and I hoped she was halfway down the Oceansgate road, well on her way to a better life.
But then Miss Quist and Amryssa entered, and my musings evaporated. I rushed toward my best friend, forgetting Kyven. Vick. Everything.
Amryssa looked awful, as if the nightmare had carved out a chunk of her vitality and cast it into the fire. Her bones prodded at skin as diaphanous as wet silk, and deep hollows lurked beneath her eyes. And...had she somehow lost weight since yesterday?
“Am, what happened?” My hands fluttered over her, as if by rearranging her dress, I could rearrangeher.
“Nothing.” She tried for brightness and fell miserably short. “I only...well, I’m tired. That nightmare...it was a cruel one.”
Miss Quist’s wide-set blue eyes reflected the same helplessness filling my heart. “She ate, but it hasn’t helped much. I don’t know what else to do, except send her upstairs for a nap.”
I gulped down the thorny ball forming in my throat. Amryssa looked like she was dying. Actually dying. Slowly but surely, these nightmares were killing her, and I couldn’t do a goddess-damned thing about it, except?—
No. Wait.
I straightened. Purpose leached into me, chasing away the ache in my marrow. Like I’d told Kyven upstairs, I could free Zephyrine from my dagger. Stop the nightmares.
Because, looking at Amryssa now, I wasn’t convinced a royal marriage would save her.
At this rate, I wasn’t sure she’d survive to see the wedding at all.
17.
Ispent the day fussing over Amryssa. A nap and a bath revived her a little, enough that by evening, I’d decided she would live.Thistime. But the nightmares were escalating, and if the next storm arrived before the annulment certificate did...
I shuddered. I had a month to free Zephyrine, maybe less.
The following morning, I threw myself into investigating my dagger. I installed Amryssa in the library, which would stay cool all day, given the continued rain, and set out to find Olivian. When I spotted his broad shoulders down a hallway, I sped after him and caught at the sleeve of his morning coat.
He turned. Annoyance leapt into his features, like he’d been holding it in reserve for precisely this moment. “What?” he barked.
Before I could get a word out, he fired more questions. “Why aren’t you with the prince? Didn’t I tell you to stay with him? Do we really needanotherhousemaid going missing?”
