“We don’tknowthat Kyven’s hateful,” Amryssa said. “Not when we haven’t met him.”
A retort swelled in my throat, quickly smothered.Iknew precisely how awful he was, though I hadn’t shared that with her just yet. Maybe I’d never have to. With any luck, the nightmare would catch the prince on the road. He was coming from Elara’s distant capital, miles and miles away, and had probably never been to our swampy, out-of-the-way backwater before. The tiny territory of Oceansgate dangled into the sea from the toe of the continent, so even if Prince Kyven had heard of our unique weather—discussed it from the safety of some palatial dining room in Hightower, maybe—he wouldn’t understand the true power of a nightmare.
Or how to survive one.
Which might just spare me from having to sink my blade into his heart. For weeks, I’d sifted through options, only to circle back to one conclusion.
Amryssa’s groom would have to die. The only question was when. Should I kill him before the vows? After, at the nuptial feast? Maybe in their chamber, before he coerced her in the marriage bed?
I hadn’t decided yet, but now a new possibility massed in the sky outside. One that might save me from spending my remaining years in a dank prison cell.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Amryssa blew out a breath, clearly having had her fill of my murderous intentions, and padded over to the four-poster. I freed her of her dress, then sheathed her insubstantial frame with the nightgown I’d laid out.
My attention snagged on a rip in the gown’s collar, but mending would have to wait. I’d stitch it tomorrow, once I recovered.
As Amryssa laid atop her threadbare sheets, as the nightmare boomed outside. I paused to breathe through the resulting dizziness, then hurried to her armoire, where the bottom drawer yielded at a touch—one of the only things in this rambling house that didn’t squeak or stick, the hinges having been oiled to perfection. I dug for Amryssa’s manacles. Metal clanked as I carried the restraints to the bed.
She offered her arm, and I snapped a cuff around one dainty wrist. Outside, the nightmare growled again, rattling the walls, probing for cracks in my composure. Its bellowing reminded me of a dying animal, overlaid with a rustle of dark wings, like that last, futile warning before sharpened talons pierced your flesh and sank into your heart.
Amryssa whimpered. “Maybe if you’d let me go outside, I?—”
“No.” Steel girded my voice.
“But—”
“No.” I snapped a manacle around her other wrist.
She averted her face in defeat.
My stomach soured. Normally, I never denied her, but whatever screws had come loose in Amryssa’s mind confused her. Unlike other people, she longed to fleeintothe arms of the approaching horror, not away.
As the house’s resident keymistress, I made sure she didn’t. That comprised my entire purpose here—a purpose that would soon fall to someone else, once the prince showed up. I only hoped Amryssa’s father would find someone worthy to bequeath my dagger to once I committed regicide and got myself taken away in irons.
But even if he didn’t, at least I’d go knowing Amryssa would never suffer Prince Kyven’s punishing touch.
I hurried around the bed, restraining her ankles, then unwinding her bedpost chains and clipping each one to a manacle. Once I’d fastened everything tight, I turned the crank to take the slack out of the chains.
When I finished, Amryssa lay spread-eagled but secure. She gazed at the shutters with longing, as if the storm-tossed marsh outside might offer more safety than this tattered haven of mahogany and silk. “If the princeisout there, might he make it through?”
I laughed with savage humor. “Not a chance.”
Moisture welled in Amryssa’s eyes. Apparently, she couldn’t stand the thought of anything suffering, even a creature as vile as Elara’s youngest prince. “Surely there’s achance. What about the brigands in the woods? They endure the nightmares without?—”
“That’s a myth, Am. They chain up like everyone else. No one can withstand a nightmare’s power.”
“But Kyven coulddieout there.” A tear slipped from between her lashes. “I might not want to marry him, but I’d never wish him harm.”
“I know.” I brushed at her tear, my fingertips lingering. Gods help me, she was so pure. Sonoble, and not because she’d someday succeed her father as seneschal, or because her family had governed Oceansgate for generations, or any of that nonsense.
Some people were just born better than the rest of us.
But I didn’t have time to stand around thinking about it, so I dried my fingers on my skirts and arranged Amryssa’s coverlet. The fabric tented weirdly over her chains, but it would have to do.
Still, I hung back before leaving. What if, once I scraped myself together tomorrow, I returned to find a dried-out husk in this bed? What if this frail, beautiful, scrap of a person couldn’t weather the coming ordeal?
“Go.” Anxiety thickened Amryssa’s voice, though she didn’t worry for herself, I knew. She only ever put others first, whether they deserved it or not. “Sound the alarm. Kyven might be close enough to hear.”
