Page 190 of The Nightmare Bride
When he smirked, I clutched my dagger so hard my palm ached. If I didn’t put distance between us right the hell now, I couldn’t be held accountable for what happened next.
So I stalked away. By the time I reached the door, I’d wrestled my wrath into submission. Mostly.
Five more weeks, that was all. Then I could wash my hands of him. Literally.
“Come on,” I said. “Amryssa’s probably done with her bath by now. I need to go check on her.”
No answer. When I looked back, Kyven bent toward Vick, whispering. A look passed between them, heavy with meaning.
My gut clenched. What in Zephyrine’s name?
The prince straightened. He came sauntering toward me, that stupid half smile tilting his mouth, as if I hadn’t just caught him scheming with his attendant. “If Amryssa needs us, then by all means, lead the way.”
I slitted my eyes. What was he up to? Moreover, what was Vick up to, with all this sneaking around?
“You’re beautiful when you do that, by the way.” Kyven’s voice dropped to a velvety croon. “That look of yours...it makes me want to misbehave, if only so you’ll scold me, afterward.”
“Scold you?” I forced the words through clenched teeth. “I’ll do much worse than scold you. So don’t test me. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
He set a hand against the doorway, caging me in. “Ah, but that’s the thing, lioness. I rather think I do. I think I’ve had you figured out since that day on the roof.”
I tried to retreat, but the jamb prevented it. Kyven leaned so close his breath wafted across my skin, stirring a memory of that same heated exhale—those same lips—blazing a trail down my neck.
I shivered. “Get away from me.”
He chuckled. “If you insist.” He strolled away.
I stood there, my feet nailed to the floor, my chest heavy with outrage. Well, outrage and...something else. Some nagging awareness of my own heartbeat, one I had no explanation for. Iswiped at my hair, smoothing the stray strands his breath had dislodged.
Thankfully, the phantom sensations faded when I glanced at Vick. He still sat in the armchair, watching me.
A smile curved across his mouth, but something about it brought to mind a scythe. It was a smile that said I had no secrets and never would, that this man had weighed me with a glance and found me wanting.
With a shudder, I hurried after Kyven, unable to decide which man unnerved me more.
11.
Giving Kyven a head start proved to be a mistake. I rushed down the hall, searching for some sign of him.
And found nothing. Just shadows and moth-eaten draperies. How had he gotten away from me so quickly?
My chest tightened. Amryssa was waiting for me upstairs, but I couldn’t leave Kyven unattended. I refused to turn my back on him, only to find out later that some unlucky housemaid had disappeared.
I upped my pace, wondering if I should call his name. But I didn’t want to draw attention—Olivian might be lurking, and he wouldn’t forgive an oversight like this, not on the heels of the shattered bust debacle.
I rounded a bend in the hall and pulled up short. Miss Quist blinked at me, her wispy blonde curls only halfway contained by her cook’s cap.
“Harlowe, sweetheart. I almost ran right into you. How clumsy of me.”
I waved off her words. “No, no, it’s my fault. I was just looking for Kyven. You haven’t seen him, have you?”
“Oh, yes.” Her eyes brightened. “His Highness went that way, just now. He offered to bring some mushrooms up from the cellar for me. Isn’t that delightful? He might be a prince, but that doesn’t stop him from pitching in, does it?”
My mouth tightened. If pissing me off every five minutes counted as ‘pitching in,’ then sure. He was endlessly fucking helpful. “Right. Yes. Excuse me.”
I hurried away, then pushed through the first external door I came to, since the root cellar could only be accessed from outside. Heat and brightness hit me like a slap, but I barely noticed. Across the yard, the cellar doors lay open. Between them, a dark tunnel sloped into the earth.
I hurried over and plunged inside. The temperature plummeted as I went, the air thickening with the scent of barley and dried apples. My eyes struggled to adjust, the rapid shift from bright to dark rendering the tunnel little more than a shadowy smear.
