Page 107 of Whisper of Nightmares

Instead, the woman nods sagely. “Otho saw things too. Strange things. Shadows moving between the halls. Mirrors breaking only to repair themselves a moment later. Flames starting with no one nearby to light them.”

Euphemia feels her heart slamming against her ribs.

“And…you?” she asks.

Kelda shakes her head. “Only Otho ever saw them.”

Euphemia frowns. “Then, how do you know⁠—”

“Oh, I do not need to see such things to know that they are real. There are bridges between the realms, you know. The veils and gates are just that—obstacles, but not impossible to break through.”

Blinking, Euphemia tries to keep up with her assessment. “Are you saying you believe there are…spirits in the house?”

“In the house. In town. All over the world.” She pats Euphemia’s shoulder with a sad smile on her face. “I knew you had the knowing. I just didn’t know how strong it was.”

The way she says it, it’s almost like she’s proud. Like this is something to be celebrated instead of the horror that it is.

“I’m not—ghosts aren’t real.”

Kelda throws back her head and laughs. The flame in the sconce ripples like it’s laughing with her.

With a flick of her wrist, Kelda starts walking down the hall. “Come, little cloud. I think I’d like your help after all.”

Not wanting to be left alone in a haunted hall, Euphemia rushes after her. “Help with what?”

“When you first arrived, you asked if you could help tend to Dagfinn.” Kelda raises an eyebrow at her. Looks her up and down. “I think it’s time I show you what really goes on in that tower.”

Chapter 21

Secrets in the Tower

They stop in the kitchen to grab Dagfinn a bowl of soup, and then the washroom for fresh linens and a clean chamber pot. Then it’s time to ascend the tower.

Euphemia has only been up here once.

Yet in many ways, it is the place in the manor she knows best.

The twisting stairs. The narrow passage. The carvings around the doorframe.

Kelda unlocks the door but holds it close. “I am allowing you to enter this chamber with me, and with me alone. You may not return here on your own or with anyone else. And even if you did, you wouldn’t be able to enter.” She removes her key ring, jingling it for emphasis. “Understood?”

A pulse of excitement thrums through Euphemia.

She swallows it down. “Yes.”

Kelda pushes the door open and enters, Euphemia shuffling in behind her.

The room is identical to when she last saw it, only this time it’s bathed in early morning sunlight. It looks more like a sickroom than a shrine to desperation. The walls, the bed, even the windowsill are crowded with objects. Candles, herbs, and trinkets Euphemia cannot make out line nearly every surface.

Kelda makes her way toward the bed in the center of the room, where the man beneath the linens and furs is barely visible.

Setting the linens down on the edge of the bed, Kelda turns to Euphemia. She points at the hearth and the fire that has slowly withered throughout the night. “Get the fire going again, will you? And don’t look this way until I say so.”

“Of course,” Euphemia replies.

She shuffles over to the hearth, her neck a stiff rod holding her curious gaze forward. Nothing could bring her to break the trust Kelda is showing her. No matter how badly she wants to catch a glimpse of the man underneath the sheets.

Instead, she listens to the ruffling off linens and furs being stripped away. Hears the quiet grunts of Kelda as she lifts his body, maneuvering him. Hears the stream of liquid that pours into what she assumes is the bedpan.