Page 104 of Whisper of Nightmares

She searches the closet, finding Cybele’s cloak is still inside.

Which is somehow worse.

On the one hand, Euphemia is relieved her sister hasn’t left without a proper farewell.

On the other, it means Cybele is still here somewhere, roaming the manor on her own.

“What are you up to, Cybele?” Euphemia mutters to herself.

Then, she’s racing through the halls of Thorfell Manor like a child playing hide and seek—only there are consequence attached to the hiding spots here. Secrets that are not Euphemia’s to reveal. Dangers Euphemia has already faced, and those she has yet to comprehend.

As Euphemia whips through one corridor, she rounds the corner and spies Cybele down the hall. Her back is turned. Before her stands the door with the mysterious lock.

She supposes it’s better than her finding the tower.

At least this room only leads to grief and mourning.

Still, as Cybele’s hands spin the mechanism, her fingers violating the twisting metal dials, panic bursts from Euphemia’s lungs.

“Stop!”

Hearing the word echo down the abandoned corridor, Cybele’s shoulders hitch with panic. But she does not heed Euphemia’s plea.

It makes Euphemia’s blood boil.

This is her home now.

Cybele has no right to go snooping around.

Euphemia charges down the corridor, velvet skirts flapping against her legs. She grabs Cybele’s shoulders and spins her around.

“I said stop. You have no right.”

Cybele ignores her, glancing over her shoulder back to the strange door. “What’s in there?”

“It’s nothing. Only a room that belonged to a dead man and now belongs to his widower.”

Cybele crosses her arms. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“I don’t know. Why would you lie about any of this? You stealing my dowry. Running off in the middle of the night. All because you supposedly married a baron in some northern region none of us have ever even heard of? To a lord who—” her arms spread wide as she looks at every corner of the dimly lit corridor “—is apparently a ghost. Or a figment of your imagination. For I have not seen him once.”

Euphemia forces her sister’s arms down. “That’s because he isn’t in right now.”

Cybele scoffs, a look of hurt pinning her sister in place.

Then she spins around and starts working on the mechanism again.

To Euphemia’s surprise, it actually looks like she’s made some progress. At least three of the rings appear to be connected, and Euphemia thinks the fifth one might be in the correct place as well, though it’s difficult to tell without the fourth one ready.

“Stop.” Euphemia grabs her elbow, attempting to spin her away again. “You won’t find anything in there but dust and memories.”

“Then tell me where to look! Tell me where I find the truth because I’m tired of being lied to.” Euphemia opens her mouth to protest, but Cybele shouts over her. “Do you think I don’t know what the people are saying about you?”

Euphemia goes still.

“Neighbors. Travelers. The people I’ve met in this cursed town.” Cybele’s gaze sharpens on her, searching. “They say the nightmare that haunted Nottinghamshire has moved on. They say it’s here in Thorfell now, that it’s following my sister.”