Chapter 24 Chelsea
Chelsea
Icouldn’t sleep. Even with Echo curled up at my feet and Eryx saying, “I’m here,” my mind raced all night. From what happened in his dream room to him asking me to be different—that gave me chills.
Be different. See the man for who he is, not the rumors that swirl around him.
Daylight crept in—and let’s be clear, it doesn’t exactly get bright on this side of the barrier. It only gets less dark.
Count your blessings, I’ve always been told.
I get up and dress in a pair of leggings and a loose sweater that falls off one shoulder. Echo follows me silently as I make my way through the winding halls in the gray-stoned manor.
Even though I’ve been here less than a full day, the place is already growing on me.
There’s something comforting in all the gray. And outside, the purple masses of magic swirl in those glass globes, casting shadows across the street.
It’s not what I’d call dismal, more like the district is its own character. If Castleview is a whimsical and cheery village, the Nightmare District is its jaded cousin.
Eventually I find the kitchen. It’s empty, and when I flip on the light, my breath hitches.
It’s amazing—a huge gas stove with eight burners, sleek appliances, and the stone here is a shade lighter. The place is almost cheerful, and I’m instantly in love.
My stomach rumbles. I didn’t eat much at supper, so now I’m starving.
I find a loaf of crusty bread that was probably baked yesterday, some cream cheese and smoked salmon.
Within minutes I’ve got breakfast, and Echo doesn’t even whine for a bite.
That’s the nice thing about having a shadow dog. It doesn’t eat or poop. It’s the perfect pet.
I’ve just taken a bite when the door opens and in walks Stave. He sees me and halts, his polished shoes skidding to a stop.
“Are you okay?”
I look behind me. “Are you asking me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m fine. Just couldn’t sleep.”
“Ah.” The worried look on his face dissolves.
“Why? Should I not be?”
He flicks his hand. “No, it’s just this place sometimes scares people.”
“The place?” I lift my brow. “Or Eryx?”
He grimaces. “A little of both.” He opens a cabinet door. “Coffee?”
“Please. I didn’t know where you kept it.”
“Cook should be in soon, and she’ll be angry you’ve already eaten. Though you’ve picked a great meal.”
I laugh at that and brush crumbs off my shirt. “I’ll stop. This queen doesn’t want to insult anyone.”
Stave laughs, and it’s a warm, friendly sound. “You don’t need to worry about insulting anyone. It’s the other way around.”
“Please tell the staff not to act in a strange way around me. I’m just a regular person.”
His eyes sharpen. “No, you’re not. You’ve married the king of Nightmares. A man who could, if he wanted, kill someone with a nightmare.”
His words hang there for a moment. “And has he ever done that?”
“Not that I know of. But Nightmare has.”
Nightmare. The being in his head.
Stave dumps grounds into a filter and turns the percolator on. When he’s finished, he faces me and drops his hands onto the counter behind him, lightly drumming his fingers.
“Should I be worried about Nightmare?”
It’s obsessed with you, Eryx told me.
“No,” Stave replies. “Nightmare killed people when it was tied to Eryx’s father, the last king. But since Eryx has taken the power, he hasn’t killed anyone—even though I’m sure Nightmare would like to.”
A shiver winds down my spine. Nightmare would like to kill someone? And Eryx is stopping it?
“Like, whom?” I ask quietly.
“I’m afraid that’s something he’ll have to tell you.”
“Who will have to tell what?”
I turn and see Eryx in the doorway. His hair is mussed, like he just got up. He’s wearing black silk pajamas, and there’s something in his eyes—relief? worry?—that makes my stomach flip.
His gaze locks on me, and some of that tension leaves his shoulders. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I reply, my face heating.
Dang it! First rule when talking about people: don’t get caught.
Stave suddenly gets very interested in the coffee maker, tapping his fingers impatiently as he waits for it to boil.
“Stave was just telling me a little bit of history. That’s all,” I say, trying to sound casual and definitely failing.
“Was he?” Eryx’s eyes cut to Stave, and something passes between them—a warning? An understanding?
Stave clears his throat. “Just about the district’s history, sir. Nothing specific.”
Eryx’s jaw tenses for a beat and then relaxes. “I see.”
The coffee comes to a boil, and Eryx moves to the percolator, giving Stave a slight nod. Stave takes the hint and slips out quietly.
Eryx pours two cups of coffee and then takes the cream and sugar, putting them in front of me. I’m about to grab the cream, but he beats me to it.
“Tell me when.”
He pours slowly, carefully, his hand steady. I watch the cream ribbon into the dark coffee, and I'm suddenly very aware of how close he's standing. Close enough that I can smell him—something clean and dark, like cedar and night air.
When he's poured enough, I say, "That's good," and my voice comes out softer than I intended.
“Sugar?”
“No, thank you.”
He cocks his head. “No sugar? For someone so sparkly, I’m shocked.”
“Sparkles don’t equal sweetness.”
His expression shifts to curiosity. “So I’m learning.”
The way he says it, like I’m a puzzle worth solving, makes my stomach swoop.
Plus, his gaze is so hot I look away, pick up my coffee and take a tentative sip. “Mm. Good beans.”
Eryx watches me over the rim of his own cup, those ice-blue eyes unreadable. “You weren’t in your room when I woke up.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Ah.” He takes a sip of coffee, and something flickers in his eyes. "Neither could I—not at first.”
The admission hangs between us. We were both lying awake. Both processing. Both thinking about…everything.
"I kept wondering if you were still awake," he says quietly. "If I should say something through the open door. But I didn't want to disturb you if you'd finally fallen asleep."
Heat crawls up my spine. "I was wondering the same thing."
We stare at each other, and this feels like another admission by Eryx, one that might have been hard for him to make, to admit that he is a real person, that he is human.
Be different.
The moment stretches between us, warm and fragile, until Echo yips and breaks the spell.
Eryx clears his throat. “You made yourself at home,” he says, eyeing my plate.
“I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is. Like I said, this is your home, too.”
“Eryx Nightshade!” We both glance over as a woman in a white chef’s hat and white coat enters. Her dark hair is streaked with gray, and it’s smashed into a bun that sits at the base of her neck. “What do you mean going off and getting married without telling anyone? Who made your wedding cake?”
“Oh, Darla, um…” He turns bright pink. “No one.”
“No one!” She throws up her hands. “What am I going to do with you. And is this your wife? Are you the woman who tamed this wild beast?”
She’s a small woman, but I can tell she has a lot of personality.
“Darla, meet Chelsea Thornrose…er, Nightshade.”
I flinch when he says my new name, and he catches it, the skin around his eyes tightening.
Chelsea Nightshade.
Not Chelsea Thornrose anymore. I'm someone else now. Someone married to the Nightmare King. Someone who lives in eternal darkness with a man who has a voice in his head.
The weight of it hits me all at once.
Eryx's expression shifts—something flashes across his face before he masks it.
Darla takes one look at me, comes around from the counter and wraps me in a bear hug. “So great to meet you. Now, don’t lie and say this guy didn’t charm you, because no doubt he did. Look at his dimples! This is a face that could launch a thousand ships. You can tell Helen of Troy to suck it!”
“Darla,” Eryx says in a warm, warning voice.
“What? You’re handsome, smart. Thousands of women wanted to marry you, and you went off and eloped without telling anyone. And not just any woman—a Castleview witch! Half the district's buzzing about it. The other half's scandalized." She winks at me. "Good. Place needs a little scandal.”
Then she turns her attention back to Eryx. “You’re lucky yesterday was my off day or you would’ve gotten a knuckle sandwich. Oh my Lord! Who let that shadow dog in here?”
“I did,” I say as Darla grabs a cast-iron skillet and tiptoes toward shadow. “He’s mine.”
“Yours?” She stares wide-eyed at Eryx. “You’re letting her keep a shadow dog?”
Eryx sips his coffee. “She asked nicely.”
“It’s love!”
I think we both turn red at that.
“Today I’m making you the best wedding cake you can get. Mistress, do you like chocolate? Vanilla? What’s your favorite?”
“Red velvet?”
She claps her hands. “I like you. That’s what you’ll have—for dinner—and sir, if you’d like to invite some people to dinner, that would be even better.”
“I’ll see who Stave and I can round up.”
Darla drops her voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t tell Nancy about the cake.” She glances at me. “Has anyone told you about Nancy yet?”
“I’ve met her.”
“And you’re still here? Eryx, you’ve married a saint. Now, as much as I love having company in here while I’m cooking, I’ve got to have my head on straight if I’m going to bake you a cake. Can I send up breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry,” Eryx says.
“I just ate.”
Darla eyes my plate. “Who made that for you?”
“I made it myself.”
She slaps her hands on her cheeks. “You’re making your brand-new wife do her own cooking? You’d better get out of here, Eryx, before I take a paddle to your behind. You’re not too old for a spanking.”
“Yes, well, thank you, Darla.”
Eryx’s face is bright pink, and it might be the most adorable thing ever—to see the Nightmare King completely embarrassed.
His gaze flicks to me, and for a brief moment I think about what happened yesterday—our wedding, the magics mingling, the ecstasy.
For as infuriated as I was after, I look at Eryx now, being berated by Darla, who obviously cares about him, and I wonder how could I have ever thought that Eryx would coax my magic without my consent.
Because you don’t know him.
True. Valid. But watching him now—pink-cheeked and being scolded by someone who clearly loves him—he seems so genuine.
This isn't the Nightmare King from the rumors. This is a man who lets his cook threaten to spank him. A man who kept his door open all night so I wouldn't be scared. A man who pours my coffee carefully and asks, Tell me when.
A deeper part of me already knows him. My magic recognized his before I did. And maybe—just maybe—it's time I start trusting that.
“So, mistress,” Darla says to me. “What are you going to do with your first full day here in the Nightmare District?”
My gaze cuts to Eryx. “I don’t know. Guess I haven’t thought about it.”
“Look at you—you practically glow, and are those sparkles on your shoes? You know what?” She slaps her hands together excitedly. “Eryx, you should take her to the market.”
“The market?” I ask, curious.
“It’s just a market here.”
“Just a market,” Darla huffs. “Nothing about the Nightmare District is ‘just.’ Go on and take her, Eryx. Let your work sit for half a day. It won’t kill you to take a break from doing what you do with nightmares.
” He cocks his head at her and Darla backtracks.
“Okay, I get it. Mind my own business. But go have some fun, and when you get back, I’ll have lunch ready. ”
Eryx places his cup of coffee on the counter. “You heard the lady. We’d better get going.”
“And take that shadow dog with you. But keep it away from Nancy—last thing we need is her ‘accidentally’ vacuuming up the mistress’s pet.”