Page 131 of Whisper of Nightmares

But the rosy-cheeked woman waves off the sentiment. “Nonsense. We take care of our own.” Then spying Euphemia from over Kelda’s shoulder, Maryam calls to her. “Euphemia. I was hoping I’d see you again. How are you feeling, dear?”

It takes Euphemia a moment to move her mind away from the possibility of Dagfinn’s cure back to the moment Euphemia fainted in the market.

She musters a polite smile. “Much better now. Thank you.”

“Glad to hear it,” Maryam says, eyes shining. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have mentioned him. But he was a good man. I hope you know that. And—” hearty laughter bursts from her as she presses her hands to her cheeks. “My goodness. I’m doing it again.”

Euphemia joins her chuckling. “It’s alright. I promise. I’m alright now. It just caught me by surprise last time, is all.”

And it surprises her to find that she is alright.

Perhaps not as unmarred as she once was—there is a part of her that will always carry this shadow, this dark cloud.

But she knows that when she faces the next monster that comes for her, she will fight to survive.

She will live.

And by living, she will carry on her father’s memory.

The thought of him now leaves a warm impression on her chest. She wants to do right by him. And with Maryam there, she does something impulsive, something she thinks her father would have done were he still here.

“If you need help repairing your cooperage, please let me know.”

Surprise flutters across Maryam’s face.

Kelda and Asvald turn curious gazes toward Euphemia as well.

A smile broadens across Maryam’s. “Very kind of you, Lady Euphemia. I will keep that in mind.” Then, turning to Kelda, she adds, “Good luck with the ritual.”

Kelda nods her thanks, and Maryam bids them all a pleasant farewell.

As Asvald closes the door, Kelda peers into the burlap bag.

Euphemia peers over her shoulder. “Is that⁠—”

“A dream ward.”

Kelda holds up the talisman as they all gather around.

Four pieces of pale wood are tied together at the ends by black threads. The same thread is woven into the center, a soothing, spiral pattern with a hole in the center.

Carved into each piece of wood are symbols Euphemia has never seen before, not on Kelda’s hands nor etched above the doors. A different language than any of them know.

Hanging from the ends are feathers.

Kelda fingers the soft edges of each feather. “There here are why it’s so difficult to make such a charm. Do you know where these feathers come from?”

Euphemia shakes her head, eager to find out.

Asvald leans closer, examining the taupe colored one with dark brown streaks. “Is it an owl feather?”

“Not just any owl,” Kelda says mystically. “Four feathers from four owls from four different parts of the world.” Gently, she sets the talisman back into the sack. She looks from Asvald to Euphemia with barely restrained tears in her eyes. “Now, let’s go wake Dagfinn up.”

They stand in the cramped tower chamber, circled around Dagfinn’s bed.

Once again, Kelda removes the dream ward from the bag, tossing the burlap to the ground.

She holds it over Dagfinn’s bed, a shudder in her breath.