Page 148 of Whisper of Nightmares

The hairs on her arms stand straight, alerted to the potential threat Kelda might pose her plan now.

A humorless laugh escapes Kelda as she stands from the settee. “Here I am, slandering Dagfinn, when I am just as guilty. When he fell ill, I refused to accept it. When my prayers to the gods were not answered, I sought out magicks to alter the fate they chose for him. I beseeched false gods and in so doing, I have not only endangered my son, but also those around me.”

The room is so heavy, Euphemia almost cannot breathe.

She can feel everything slipping away from her.

She has to make Kelda see things differently.

“No one is in danger,” Euphemia says. “Not from what Dagfinn has asked me to do. The preparation will work. I can show you. He taught me exactly what I need to do, I just need more roseroot and you’ll see then. You have nothing to fear⁠—”

Like a clap of thunder, Kelda bellows. “You are not permitted anywhere near the cliffs nor that cursed study. Understood?”

“But Kelda, I⁠—”

Kelda holds up her tattooed hand, a barely contained tremble pulsing in it. “As much as it pains me to say it, Dagfinn is not waking. But our lives do not stand still while he slumbers. My mind has been decided, Euphemia. There is a darkness in that study. I should have never permitted it under my roof. And as of tomorrow, I will have it swept clean, and there will be no more talk of tinctures and madness within these walls. As of tomorrow, things will be changing at Thorfell Manor.”

There is such finality in her words that the thunder outside feels almost timed by the gods. Kelda seems to notice as well, and she nods toward the window.

Euphemia feels as small as a mouse, scared and scurrying in the unfamiliar territory of arguing with a mother figure. A woman who she has come to respect. A friend.

But a friend wouldn’t stomp on her dreams like this.

A mother wouldn’t give up on her son at his greatest time of need.

She wants to tell her to believe in them. To believe in her son. To give them one final chance.

But all she can manage is a broken— “Please. Don’t do this.”

Kelda’s voice leaves no room for argument. “It is already decided. At first light, I will head into town and speak to Percival. I will accept his terms.”

Euphemia wants to scream.

She wants to remind Kelda that Percival is nothing more than a manipulative, vindictive, conniving swindler.

But Euphemia sees the hollowness in her face now, and understands.

This is a woman who has lost all hope.

Someone who is unable to fight any longer.

However, someone else is.

From the corner of the room, Asvald surges forward until he’s standing before Kelda, emotion warping his face in shadow. “Kelda, no. You cannot do this. He’s a swine.”

“I know what he is,” she says through clenched teeth, but still holds his gaze. She stares up at him with respect and something gentler. Something sorrowful. “But he is offering something I cannot refuse right now. If this is to be Dagfinn’s life, he needs a roof over his head. He needs stability. The arrangement with Percival will provide that.”

A muscle in Asvald’s jaw twitches.

For a moment, it looks as though he will root himself to the ground and not move until she changes her mind.

Then the moment passes.

His expression softens.

Asvald takes a step back.

Kelda gestures to Euphemia. “Take her to her bedchamber. Lock the door for the night.”