Page 106 of Whisper of Nightmares

By the time Euphemia is done, Cybele looks small and childlike. She is rendered speechless for once. But the effect does not linger long.

“What about Thurstan?” she asks, and Euphemia wishes that she hadn’t overheard the conversation last night. “What will you do when he takes everything from you?”

“He won’t,” Kelda’s voice calls out from behind them.

They turn and watch as she strides down the corridor, a fur pelt draped over her shoulders.

She eyes their proximity to the door and Euphemia’s belly tightens.

Kelda narrows her gaze on Cybele. “The rains have stopped. I think it’s time you returned home.”

Cybele glances to Euphemia, one final plea in her expression.

Euphemia draws her shoulders back. Cybele’s head falls.

“Very well. I shan’t bother you again.” Spinning on her heels, Cybele walks down the dimly lit hallway. Stops. Her eyes glisten with pain and ferocity as she glances over her shoulder one last time. “Congratulations on your new, blissful, completely inconspicuous life. I hope you and the baron are happy living in ignorance.”

And then, Cybele finally abandons her.

Euphemia’s heart pinches. She forbids regret from taking hold though. She did nothing wrong. She didn’t abandon them. If anything, her plan worked. The nightmare left Nottinghamshire and it will not bother them again.

Euphemia had not known, however, that the creature had been spotted in town…but that is a problem for another day.

As Cybele’s footsteps slowly fade, Euphemia turns to Kelda, spluttering, “I’m so sorry, Kelda. I tried telling her to leave Lord Otho’s room alone, but she wouldn’t listen⁠—”

“Otho’s room?” Kelda frowns. An idle hand traces the designs in the door. “Who told you this room belonged to Otho?”

“N-no one,” Euphemia answers, but now it’s her brows that bunch. “It was just so neglected, I assumed that was the reason. That perhaps it was too painful to come here.”

Kelda’s hand stills.

She steps back from the door, watching it with wariness. “It is painful. But not because it was Otho’s. This room belongs to Dagfinn.”

Euphemia’s wide eyes snap to the door. Suddenly, it’s like she’s seeing it in a new light. All she knows about her husband is that he has a fondness for the sciences, and now this too. A peculiar mind with an inclination toward…what? Secrecy? Challenge? A test of worthiness?

“Only Dagfinn knows how to open this door,” Kelda says after a long silence. “That is why I do not come down here. That and because this room makes me feel unsettled.”

Involuntarily, Euphemia’s gaze flits to the sconce across the corridor, the one that had lit itself without anyone nearby to do so.

It’s lit now, too, she realizes. She wonders if Cybele witnessed it too.

Kelda’s keen eyes catch the trajectory of Euphemia’s gaze. She leans forward intently. “You saw something, little cloud.”

The air in the corridor shifts wildly.

Not the gentle breeze of an old and drafty manor.

This is something more severe.

Like a storm’s wind thrashing down the hall.

Euphemia and Kelda watch it in silence.

“What did you see?” Kelda asks with utmost severity.

And perhaps it’s for that reason, Euphemia answers honestly and swiftly. “Just a flame. The first morning I slept here. I woke up and followed the lit sconces like Asvald instructed, but then—” she points a shaky hand to the sconce behind them, the flame erect and leaning forward as if it is listening too. “That sconce ignited on its own.”

She expects Kelda to burst out laughing.