Nevan
Today is my wedding day.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring at the face I never let anyone see.
Without the mask, the Duke of Wellspring didn’t exist. There was just Nevan Wilder, a cursed man, studying his reflection.
The lower half of my face was unremarkable. A strong jaw that was clean shaven, a mouth that had been told it favoured my mother’s, but from the cheekbones upward, the curse had made its claim.
My skin was pale, far paler than it should have been, as though the blood had retreated from the surface and never returned. Faint white lines traced across my cheekbones and up toward my temples, thin as thread, forming patterns that weren’t scars and weren’t veins but something in between, as though the curse had tried to write itself across my face in a language no one alive could read.
My eyes were the worst. The grey I’d been born with had long since deepened into something closer to silver, and in certain light, they seemed to glow faintly from within. In the dark, it could be mistaken for candlelight.
I wasn’t hideous. That was the bitter truth of it. I wasn’t a monster like the tales say because the curse hadn’t disfigured me. A stranger passing me on the street might think me striking, even handsome, until they looked too long and noticed that something about my face doesn’t sit right.
I was a gap between humanity and something else, close enough to haunt anyone who looked too closely. The people who had seen this face hadn’t screamed because I was a monster. They had screamed because I almost wasn’t.
And that was worse.
I picked up the custom-made wedding mask from the table and fitted it over my face. The clasps clicked into place, and the man in the mirror vanished. In his place stood the Duke of Wellspring.
I adjusted the collar of my wedding suit and drew a deep breath.
My wedding suit was immaculate and dark, tailored with golden buttons matching the mask. Clyde had laid it out the night before.
The black lines beneath my skin had spread overnight. They threaded through my forearms now, thin as veins, dark as ink, visible only when the light hit at certain angles. I tugged my gloves higher and buttoned my cuffs to the wrist so that no one would see them.
Today I would marry Rosamund Fletcher and all things being equal, she would become my salvation.
Clyde entered carrying a pressed cravat and a small box containing the wedding bands. He set the box on the table and studied me silently.
"Are you anxious?" he asked.
"If I manage to marry Rosamund today, I would be thrilled, Clyde. Men run away from marriage, but I’ve been yearning for it for almost three years now, and today that it’s happening, I feel like a fraud."
"The restlessness again?" He asked quietly.
I nodded. It was worse last night. The tremor in my hands, the pressure behind my ribs, the constant feeling of something coiling tighter inside me. I’d paced my chamber until the floorboards creaked, then stood at the window watching the grounds, half expecting to see something moving in the dark.
"But I’ll be fine. Once I marry Rosamund, the worst of it is over." I turned from the mirror and met his gaze. "Thank you, Clyde, for everything. The chapel, the arrangements, all of it. I know this wasn’t easy to pull together in three days."
"It wasn’t," he agreed with a slight smile, "But Mrs Harlow is a force of nature, and the kitchen staff performed admirably once they stopped being terrified of the timeline." He paused, adjusting the cravat in his hands. "The chapel is ready. The priest arrived last night from the village. Flowers are in place. Food is being prepared for a small reception after the ceremony."
"Guest list?"
"Minimal, as you requested. Household staff, myself, Mr Alistair, and a handful of local families who were given very short notice and are no doubt deeply confused but too polite to decline a Duke’s invitation."
I almost smiled.
"And Jennifer?"
Clyde’s expression fell as he cleared his throat. "She will not be attending."
"Did she say why?"
"She said she had a migraine and would be keeping to her quarters for the day." He set the cravat down. "She didn’t look like a woman with a migraine, but I chose not to press the matter."
I exhaled slowly. She was still angry with me. I couldn’t blame her. But I wondered, as I had many times before, if there would ever come a day when Jennifer and I could look at each other without the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on us.
"Let her be," I said. "If she doesn’t want to come, I won’t force her."
Clyde nodded.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
I looked at the wedding bands in the box. Two simple gold rings—one slightly larger than the other. I picked up the smaller one and turned it in my fingers. In a few hours, I would slide this onto Rosamund’s hand. She would become my wife. And either the bond would form, the curse would break, and everything I’d been fighting for would finally be within reach, or I would destroy another woman’s life.
"No," I said honestly. "But it has to be done."
"It does." Clyde straightened his coat. "I’ll go check with Mrs Harlow on Rosamund’s preparations. Make sure she’s eaten and dressed. The ceremony is set for ten."
He turned toward the door but before he could reach, it opened.
Mrs Harlow stood in the doorway, as white as a sheen, compared to her always-cold and controlled self.
Instantly, I knew something was wrong.
"Your Grace," she said with a strained voice. "Lady Rosamund is not in her chambers."
The ring slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a sound like a bell being struck, and almost immediately, I felt relief. Things had been going too smoothly, and it just didn’t sit well with me.
Misfortunes were normal with me. No matter how prepared I am, one or two things must always go wrong, and that arrangement suited me better. If things go too well, it makes me anxious.
"What do you mean?" Clyde asked sharply, moving towards her.
"Her bed is empty. Her boots are gone. Fanny was asleep in the outer chamber and didn’t hear her leave." Mrs Harlow swallowed. "We’ve searched the west wing, the dining hall, the kitchens, the gardens, the grounds, but she is nowhere in the estate."
My vision darkened as I let out a scoff.
I knew this was going to happen. I had felt it—the restlessness, the coiling tension, the sense all night that something would go wrong. I had stood at that window watching the grounds and felt it pulling at me, whispering that I should check on her, that I should go to her room, that something was coming undone.
And I had ignored it. Because the last time I’d gone to her room, she’d accused me of violating her.
"The east gate," I said. My voice sounded far away. "Did you check the east gate?"
Mrs Harlow nodded. "The guard reported he stepped away briefly before dawn. When he returned, the gate was open."
She was gone. My bride was gone. On the morning of our wedding, the one woman who could break the curse had walked out of my estate and into the darkness.
"She must have left between 3 am and 4 am," I muttered, already removing the cravat from my neck, grabbing my coat from the chair and pushing past Mrs Harlow into the corridor.
"Nevan!" Clyde called after me. "Where are you going?"
"To find her."
"No, Nevan," Clyde’s eyes widened as he came to stand in my path. "You know it’s dangerous to leave here, especially with what’s happening to you. Perhaps the guards can—"
"The guards?" I scoffed. "You know Rosamund would not bat an eyelid if a group of men threatened her to come with them, and outside these walls, it’s easier for her to claim to be a damsel in distress. I won’t take that risk."
"Fine!" Clyde swallowed. "Just think about it for a minute or two. Weigh the consequences..."
"Saddle my horse, Clyde," I cut him mid-sentence. "If my instincts are right, it’s not too late to retrieve her."
"But—"
Clyde started to say, but I pushed past him and took the stairs three at a time, my heart hammering, the black lines beneath my gloves pulsing with a heat that matched the terror clawing up my throat.
Every second she was outside these walls was a second the curse could reach her. Every minute was a minute closer to losing her the way I’d lost all the others.
But this time was different. This time, I wasn’t going to sit in my study and wait for the news.
This time, I was going after her myself.