Page 20 of The Nightmare Bride
I think you understand what I’m saying, do you not?
Give Amryssa my love, and I breathlessly await your reply,
Eliana Weatherby
I crushed the paper to my bosom. Wounding Merron had infused me with doubt, but now the letter crystallized my resolve once more.
I wouldn’t let Kyven touch Amryssa. I wouldn’t let him touch anyone, ever again.
Except me. And only once.
I dropped my blanket and went to the bathroom, then opened the taps to the hammered-copper tub. Steaming water cascaded into the basin. I stepped in, not caring that my skin pinked and sizzled in moments.
I washed my hair to gleaming, then scrubbed every inch of skin and soaked for so long that I grew waterlogged, my fingertips puckered.
When I emerged, I toweled dry, then went to go shove myself into Amryssa’s wedding dress.
The same dress I would wear when I committed murder tonight.
6.
Icouldn’t breathe.
I tried to tell myself it was because Amryssa’s wedding dress squeezed me so tightly my ribs knitted together, but the fact that Prince Kyven was coming definitely didn’t help.
His bootheels clacked against the great hall’s parquet, audible even through the library door. Each footfall stung my ears like a whipcrack.Clack. Clack.
This man—this monster—was about to become my husband.
I stole a glance at Amryssa. She waited, head bowed, her knuckles white around the loop of my keychain. After her nap, she’d fought my plan all over again, but I’d reminded her she’d agreed to this.
Now here we were.
Clack. Clack. My nerves sizzled like live coals. Across the library, the officiant contemplated his pocket watch, then cast a glance around.
I tried to calm my jittery nerves by imagining what he saw. Despite years of neglect, the library still commanded awe, a wonderland of crown molding and floor-to-ceiling windows.Gilt-trimmed books lined the walls, their spines gleaming with all the jewel tones of a beetle’s carapace. Plush velvet armchairs dotted the room, their shabbiness softened by the lamplight.
Given that, this man probably assumed what everyone else in Oceansgate did—that Olivian was still rich. That the seneschal had abandoned them to the nightmares. That we’d shut ourselves up here willingly, with our full coffers and icy hearts for company.
But in truth, we simply had no means to help them anymore. We barely had the means to help ourselves. We were destitute.
Clack. Clack.
The doorknob turned. Shit. No matter what I’d told myself, I wasn’t ready.
But there was no stopping what came next. Prince Kyven strode in, resplendent in shades of white and gold, and if I’d had trouble breathing before, now I was drowning.
In full, royal regalia, he overwhelmed me. I swore he glowed, his tailcoat as crisp as if the sartor had delivered it this morning, his russet hair threaded with fire by the lamplight. He came at me like an aimed javelin, his arctic eyes fastened on mine.
My lungs failed, but I couldn’t blame it on the dress this time. Sweet Zephyrine, but he was beautiful. And absolutely poisonous. And really, how fucking dare he? Monsters like him should have the decency to wear their crimes on their faces, not show up looking like some unsuspecting woman’s wet dream of an arranged husband.
Kyven’s attendants strode in on his heels. Vick cataloged the library with methodical precision while Lunk gaped at the towering walls of books. I swore I caught a flash of appreciation in the giant’s eyes.
“Why, my Lady Amryssa.” Kyven’s gaze swept over me. “I knew bacon had the power to restore you, but...just how much did you eat? You look ferocious.”
“Ferocious?” My thready question barely put a dent in the quiet.
“Mmm. Like a dark lioness. Like you might tear me limb from limb, then pick your teeth with my bones, afterward.”
