Nancy turns and flashes me a smile. “You two kids have fun. See you tomorrow.”
Then she exits my room, leaving me alone with Eryx. His gaze slowly lifts and lands on me, where I stand by the vanity.
He goes very still. His eyes darken—not with magic, but with something else entirely. Something that makes heat pool low in my stomach.
His Adam's apple bobs. Once. Twice. “You look…” He stops. Starts again. “Beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, because suddenly I can't find my voice either.
He’s wearing a black suit with a dark purple vest. His hair is combed and he’s freshly shaved. Even from where I’m standing, I catch a whiff of his scent—soap and musk, and something darker underneath, something uniquely him.
It’s divine.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Yes.”
I slowly walk over, hyperaware of how the silk feels against my skin, how his eyes track every step. His gaze never leaves mine as I cross my room. The heat of his stare makes a flush creep up my neck.
When I reach him, we’re so close I can feel his warmth.
“Are you nervous?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Don’t be. I’ve invited friends and your family. Just remember to look Nightmare District people in the eye and be honest in all your answers. We like honesty here.”
“I’ll remember.”
We stare at each other for another beat, and then, as if he suddenly recalls what he’s supposed to do, Eryx offers his arm and I slowly link mine through it.
He pauses for a moment as if he’s gathering his thoughts. I understand. There’s a heaviness to this moment. Something about it makes this feel very real. Like we’ve only been playing pretend married couple for the past day, but now it means something—and not only because we’re throwing our first party, but because after today with his people, something has shifted between us.
But I can’t put my finger on what.
All I know is when we walk down the stairs to greet our guests, we won’t be Eryx and Chelsea, pretending to be married.
I'll be the Nightmare Queen standing beside the Nightmare King.
Somewhere between the market and this moment, between almost-kisses and coffee poured carefully and a shadow puppy and Nancy's rare smile—this started to feel real.
And I can’t tell if I'm ready for what that means.
Chelsea
As we walk down the hall toward the grand entrance, I ask him, “Will you be comfortable tonight?”
He angles his head toward me. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You hate big crowds.”
“This one is small.”
“So you hate it less.”
He barks a laugh, and seeing his smile brighten his entire face makes my heart drum against my ribs.
I look away.
