Page 29 of The Nightmare Bride
“Oh, was it?” Olivian rounded on me, spittle flying. “Why does that not surprise me,Your Highness?”
I backpedaled a step.Your Highness. Huh. I...hadn’t actually considered that.
“Well?” he roared. “Is that how I should address you now?”
I groped for my dagger, then winced. Shit. I’d left it in my room.
Ah, well. No way out but through. I snapped steel into my spine, since apparently, I now outranked Olivian—all ninety-nine seneschals in Elara answered to the monarchy. “I guess you should.”
He snarled. “Becauseyoumarried the prince last night, not Amryssa?”
“Looks like.”
“And what do you have to say for yourself?”
“Um. Oops?”
Olivian’s glare turned murderous. His fingers flexed, practically glowing with the need to strangle me. “And just what on earth possessed you, girl? What in seven hells were you trying to accomplish?”
I flashed my teeth. “After reading Eliana’s letter, you really have to ask?”
He started toward me, violence in his eyes.
I dug my heels in, even while I wondered if I should run. What was I going to do, fight him bare-handed?
Thankfully, Olivian stopped mid-stride, his attention shifting past my shoulder. I turned, expecting empty space, or maybe a particularly provocative torchier, but a bare-chested prince filled the doorway instead, his breeches slung low on carven hips. A sleepy smile clung to Kyven’s lips.
He looked...gorgeous, so much that yesterday’s hate came crashing back like a punch to the gut. Then I saw what he held.
My dagger.
He offered me the weapon, hilt first. I snatched it, my loathing muddling to something indefinable.
“I figured you’d want that.” Kyven winked. “Seeing as how someone in this room soundsverycranky, indeed.”
For long moments, no one spoke. Olivian used the silence to smooth the rigid cast of his shoulders. “Ahem. Your Highness.”
“Seneschal.” Kyven’s smile played at a smirk. “Good morning. I’m prepared to accept congratulations at any time.”
“I’d offer them,” Olivian said tightly. “But it seems there’s been some...confusion.”
“Ah, yes.” Kyven eyed me. “For which I apologized last night. Though I can do it again, if your daughter would like.”
“Notthat,” I whisper-hissed.
Olivian’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t pursue the subject, thank Zephyrine. “Your Highness, it’s only...I have to be sure. Which of these women did you marry last night?”
Kyven’s brows rose. He glanced from me to Amryssa and back again. “Which of these women? Surely you’re joking?”
“No.” Olivian’s patience was already fraying. “Who was it?”
“Well, if you’d attended your own daughter’s wedding, you’d know, wouldn’t you?”
At Olivian’s glower, Kyven relented, though he was very clearly enjoying himself.
“Why, her, of course.” He gestured to me. “The Lady Amryssa.”
The seneschal spat a gravelly curse. “Except that’snotthe Lady Amryssa. That is.” He pointed at the bed.
