Page 162 of Whisper of Nightmares

She shakes her head at Kelda, her voice low as she says, “He understood it more than you know.”

Before Kelda can stop her, Euphemia lifts the vial the rest of the way to his dry lips. And pours.

The brew spills into Dagfinn’s mouth.

The lump of his throat bobs once.

Twice.

Euphemia hears Kelda struggling behind her the whole time and realizes Asvald must be holding her back. It seems he would do anything for that woman, including incur her wrath forever if this doesn’t work.

It will though.

Dagfinn finishes drinking the full contents of the vial.

Finally Kelda rushes to his bedside as Euphemia lowers him back down. The look she flashes her is one of severe rage, but also tentative hope. The two women kneel there at Dagfinn’s bedside. Neither of them speak. Neither of them move. Their gazes are fixed upon the man that has brought them together. The man they need to save.

His chest rises and falls.

Euphemia can’t tell if it’s any slower or quicker than it was before.

Doubt tries wriggling into her thoughts, but she ignores it. She believes in him and she believes in herself.

Euphemia takes Dagfinn’s hand into her own.

And it is then that his eyes finally open. Eyes that are not black pits like they were last time. But his eyes. Bright blue that shine with amazement.

Kelda leans forward, gazing upon him. “Dagfinn?”

It draws his attention and he says, voice harsh, “Mother?”

A sob cranks out of Kelda. “Is it…is it really you this time?”

He swallows thickly, like the brew has clogged his throat with moss. But his wry humor remains.

“Who else would it be?”

Kelda envelops him then, wrapping her arms around the son she thought she’d lost months ago. The son she thought she lost again last night. The son she thought might never awaken and would die in this manor, just as his father had done before him.

From the doorway, Euphemia hears Asvald sigh as he makes his way into the room and approaches the family. He tussles Dagfinn’s hair as if he were his own child.

Euphemia watches their emotional reunion, frozen in place.

Her hands tremble where they still cling to Dagfinn, too scared to let go. Because what if he had been wrong. What if it was all just a dream and he doesn’t remember her. What if none of it had been real. Not the tender moments they shared. Not the harrowing adventures.

What if this will be the last time she touches him because he wants nothing to do with her?

“Sorry. I’m squeezing the breath out of you,” Kelda says, releasing her son.

As she leans away, Euphemia’s view of Dagfinn clears.

Their eyes lock.

A thunderstorm surges through Euphemia. Electric and burning.

She holds her breath.

Afraid to move.