Page 93 of The Nightmare Bride
I scrambled after him. At the lawn’s edge, I plunged into the forest, into an alien realm of violet trees and snarled underbrush. The smell of decay weighted the air. I squelched between the ferns and palmettos, one hand atop my dagger.
Ahead, in a clearing, Ky set the puppy down. I ducked behind a corrupted cypress and peeked around its trunk. The dog gazed up, its dual tails flicking, as if undecided on whether to wag or curl between its legs.
Ky knelt. He clamped a hand around the dog’s neck.
My heart plummeted, snagging my stomach on the way down. Shit. Shitshitshit. I didn’t know how best to save the puppy—use the dagger’s magic on Ky? The dog?
But it was already too late. His hand moved, and I winced against the inevitable crunch. When it didn’t come, I opened my eyes to find him...
...petting it?
I loosed the longest breath of my life. Ky ruffled the pup’s fur and, when it capsized in wriggling delight, scratched at its belly. The dog’s twin tails thumped against the ground.
“There now,” Ky crooned. “How about a bit of cheese?”
He dug in his waistcoat and came up with a chunk of white stuff. The dog snarfed the offering without a moment’s pause.
My head lightened, threatening to float off my shoulders. I stepped out from behind the tree, my hand falling from my knife.
Ky glanced up. “Oh, lioness, I didn’t see you there. Would you care to pet him? He smells repugnant, but he makes up for it with sheer enthusiasm, at least.”
“You’re not...going to kill him?”
“Kill him?” He looked affronted. “Of course not. Who would kill an innocent dog?”
A creeping heat suffused me. Shame or relief—I couldn’t untangle the two.
“Except that bloodthirsty old fossil you call a seneschal,” he continued. “Who, by the way, you should tell to go fuck himself next time he speaks to you that way. I can’t remember the last time someone’s made me so angry.”
A spiky laugh fled my lips. Gods among us, how could I have suspected him of being a killer? Even for a moment? He wasn’t. Clearly. He was just...him. A cocky prince. A man who knew himself so thoroughly that the nightmares couldn’t touch him, who disliked the seneschal’s attempts to control me just as much as I did.
“You know, Ihavetold Olivian that,” I said. “Many times. But he’s strangely immune to insults. Kind of like someone else I know.”
“Well.” Ky dusted his hands and stood. The puppy dashed into the underbrush, apparently having gotten its fill of cheese and attention. “In that case, I’ll tell him myself. A royal command to go fuck oneself isn’t to be taken lightly.”
My heart melted like warm butter. This silver-tongued devil. “Ky. I have...something I should tell you. Something I got wrong.”
He came toward me, his eyes gleaming lilac in the swamp-glow. “What is it?”
“I—”
A branch cracked. Our heads whipped around.
The bracken rustled, and Vick emerged, his shortsword in his hand. I frowned. What washedoing here?
Ky’s expression closed up. “Oh. It’s you.”
Vick studied the span between our bodies as if mapping its exact dimensions, itsmeaning. He didn’t say anything.
Ky expelled a sigh. “Feel free to open that delightful mouth of yours at any moment. And Harlowe knows you’re not from Hightower, so you can lose the terrible accent.”
Vick surveyed me for so long that my pulse ticked up. What did he plan on doing with that sword? Moreover, why did Ky sound so chilly?
“What’d you do with the dog?” Vick finally said. “Is it dead?”
I recoiled at hearing an Oceansgate accent come from his mouth. I’d known, but still. He suddenly seemed like a different person. One that set my teeth on edge, even more so than before.
“I let it go.” Ky sniffed. “Though I’ll thank you not to share that with the seneschal. Now, why don’t you run along? I was about to have a word with my wife.”
