Page 48 of The Nightmare Bride
Just...minus the part about being a liar. And possibly a sadist.
I sighed and went to my armoire. In the bathroom, I exchanged my nightgown for an amethyst dress with lace spills at the sleeves, then eyed my reflection, thankful my dagger had managed my corset laces for me. I would’ve rather flung myself out the window than asked for Kyven’s help.
When I emerged from the bathroom, he gave me an appreciative once-over. “Ready?” He offered an arm.
I ignored it. “As I’ll ever be.”
We stole into the hall and down the stairs. With each step, a fizzy lightness crept over me, a thrill that buzzed in the back of my skull. I hadn’t done anything like this in...well, ever, and I almost felt as though I’d slipped into someone else’s life. Like I was sixteen years old, escaping the watchful eyes of my parents. Shedding the burden of duty, if only for a night.
Not that I actually was. Tonight’s purpose involved coaxing some kind of truth out of Kyven. But as we slunk through the candlelit halls, I swore the shadows made way, then curtained together again behind us, the darkness itself accommodating our passage. As if we’d locked the world out of some shared secret.
Outside, the marsh’s salt-heavy tang blanketed the evening. The worst of the heat had broken, and the stars hardened to fiery diamonds. The swamp’s glow rose from the trees like spectral purple fumes.
I paused to contemplate the house’s unlit windows, then the sky. A month had passed since our last nightmare, and before that, we’d only had an eight-day reprieve. But the nightmaresusually passed through every six weeks or so, which meant weshouldhave another fortnight of peace.
Kyven drew close, as if he could sense my mental abacus clacking. “If we see so much as a cloud, we’ll hurry back. We won’t leave her alone.”
My breath caught. Was he that perceptive, or was I that transparent? “You swear it?”
He pressed a fist to his heart. “On my life,” he said, and swept an exaggerated bow, like some knight of old.
I huffed at his over-the-top theatrics. He was clearly lying, but...so what? Town wasn’t far. Only a mile and a half. I’d be minutes from Amryssa, at most.
Kyven straightened and sauntered off, into the sultry darkness. I followed, knowing that if the weather turned, I’d rush back, with him or without him.
On the road, gravel crunched beneath our feet. Kyven attempted to draw me into a conversation and, with no other way to pass the time, I let him. It was a real discussion, even, about Lunk’s newly minted love for Miss Quist.
I’d been there three weeks ago to witness its conception. One morning, our rosy-cheeked, frizzy-haired, gloriously plump cook had brought a tray of eggs into the breakfast room, and Lunk had lost his heart.
I hadn’t known a man could fall in love in a single moment, but the giant’s cheeks had slackened and his blunt features softened to a glow. He hadn’t spoken, but he’d quit breathing and hadn’t started again until the kitchen door had swung shut behind Miss Quist.
Now I conversed with Kyven in low tones, my attention still on the sky. “Has Lunk talked to her yet?”
“No,” he said, “and I don’t believe he plans to. He has a habit of taking himself out of the running before he even gets started. I’ve seen him do it before.”
“Why? Because of his...?” I gestured to my face.
“Mmm-hmm. I’ve told him that any woman worth her salt will realize how much he has to recommend him, and that we can’tallwin the genetic roll of the dice. But he never listens. Most likely, he’ll moon about, admiring her from afar, and eventually write a despairing poem or two. If nothing else, I take comfort in the fact that you’ll have to suffer through the recitation with me.”
I digested that. Despite having two attendants, Kyven mostly looked after himself, so I’d only spoken to Lunk a handful of times. The giant always covered his mouth when he talked, as if a raised hand might conceal the lispeds’s and bee-buzzth’s his underbite produced. Yet he’d struck me as intelligent and open-hearted, a man worthy of someone as sweet as Miss Quist.
Warmth fuzzed beneath my ribs, and I caught myself. Goddess. Charitable thoughts abouttwopeople in one fell stroke? I was losing my edge.
At least Kyven still made me want to stab something whenever he walked by.
“You should tell Lunk she’s not the type to judge on looks,” I said, in an attempt to regain my balance. “And that she reads even more romances than I do. They’re more scandalous, too. Maybe they could bond over that.”
Kyven arced an eyebrow, but he passed up the opportunity for a jibe, much to my surprise. “He won’t listen. Though Ididask him about his newfound passion while he and I were outside the kitchen yesterday.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Oh. So...you’re planning to trick him into confessing?”
He smirked. “I wouldn’t say I’mplanningit.”
“Oh, no, of course not.” I sniffed. “Let me guess, you had some convoluted justification, didn’t you? What did you tell yourself, that you werecreating an opportunity where nonecurrently exists?” I mimicked his stuck-up accent, my nose thrust into the air.
He laughed. “Gods, lioness. You’re adorable when you mock me. Truly.”
The compliment stole half the air from my lungs, and I scolded myself. Stupid. Stupid, pretentious, condescending prince. Stupid me for indulging in his bullshit. Stupid Olivian for burdening me with this man long enough that he was starting to feel familiar.
