Page 186 of Whisper of Nightmares

No one has ever risked everything. For her.

Euphemia once thought she would spend her whole life alone and feeling like the black sheep of the flock, always shunned to the outskirts, never allowed in.

But here Dagfinn is, welcoming her into his own flock of strangeness. A man who’s known death. A mad scientist who’s attempted to cure it. A kind lord who is somehow still feared despite the goodness in his heart.

Euphemia twists around.

She presses a hand to his face and kisses him.

“Let’s go home,” she says.

“Ride through town on an undead, flaming horse while everyone watches in confusion and fear?” A devastating grin curves one side of his mouth. He wipes away the tear on her cheek. “There is nothing I’d love more. Let’s show them who we really are.”

And so, the cursed lord of nightmares and the haunted bride do just that.

Chapter 36

Epilogue

Fingers sink into the damp soil. Euphemia digs through her garden, pulling weeds and tending the plants she planted earlier that spring. Most of it is herbs and flowers for her and Dagfinn’s study, though there are a few vegetables scattered among the beds as well.

Today is harvest day, and Euphemia’s basket is already full of yarrow, juniper, sage, meadowsweet, and nettle to replenish their stores.

As Euphemia works her way through the overgrowth, her fingers brush against a tall stalk. She gasps, excitement pulsing through her. Pushing aside the surrounding foliage, she reveals a single, sturdy stem crowned with a yellow bud just beginning to bloom.

Euphemia beams down at the roseroot.

It’s thriving here in the new soil.

After everything they’d been through, there is something almost miraculous about seeing it grow. But more than that, she cannot wait to show Dagfinn.

Footsteps crunch along the path behind her.

Without looking, Euphemia already knows who it is. She would recognize his presence anywhere.

Euphemia rises, tucking her basket over her hip as she turns toward Dagfinn.

“Someone’s practically glowing today,” he says.

“It’s the roseroot. It’s started to bloom.” With the toe of her boot, Euphemia brushes aside some of the neighboring plants, revealing the stalk and its yellow flower.

Dagfinn beams. “Well done.”

His gaze wanders over the garden, all lush with greenery.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. Euphemia wonders if he sees the same thing she does: that this garden is more than a collection of herbs and flowers. It is proof that things that were once dead can grow again.

His expression shifts into something more playful. “At this rate, I’ll be able to make more of that sleeping tincture in no time.”

Euphemia nearly drops her basket just to smack him in the shoulder. “You’d better not think of doing something like that ever again. Not unless I’m coming with you.”

Dagfinn grabs her by the waist and Euphemia squeals as she’s pulled flush against him.

“I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without you, wife of mine.”

“Better not.”

With Dagfinn towering a whole head over her, Euphemia has to stretch up onto her toes to reach his lips.