Page 27 of Whisper of Nightmares

She tests his name, too. Dagfinn. Lets it echo in her mind, wearing grooves in all the places it has not been before. Something about it already feels familiar, the spaces where his name nestles already eager to receive him.

Euphemia bites her lip.

She knows she should tell Kelda the truth. Warn her about the curse. Just so she knows.

But now that salvation is so near, Euphemia can’t bring herself to risk it. She owes it to her family not to.

Besides, Kelda herself already admitted to seeing through her damned soul. A dark cloud, she had called her the moment they met. Somehow, she had seen Euphemia’s guilt. Felt the shame consuming her. And although she does not know the whole truth, Kelda seems willing to accept her regardless. Willing to grant her shelter during one of her greatest times of need.

It is selfish to accept such an offer.

And yet…

Fishing into her pocket, Euphemia retrieves her leather pouch and hands it to Kelda. “My dowry then.”

The widow weighs the bag in the palm of her hand with a cocked brow. “Your dowry?”

Heat consumes Euphemia’s face. But Kelda doesn’t wait for confirmation, nor denial. She merely tosses the pouch back to her. Euphemia barely manages to catch it before it can plummet to the ground.

“Where I come from it is the husband’s family who pays the bride’s family for their loss, not the other way around.”

“Oh,” Euphemia says, dumbfounded. She stares down at the pouch, not wanting to argue, but unsure of how to respond to such a cultural difference. It feels heavier with every passing moment knowing that this money wasn’t even hers to begin with. She thrusts the pouch to Kelda again. “In that case, this money needs to be returned to my family.”

“Of course, of course. Shall we tell Andriana the happy news then⁠—”

“No!” Euphemia shouts and Kelda has the gall to look as if she is surprised by the answer, as if she is not already aware that Euphemia was fleeing in the dead of night. Euphemia controls her volume. “No. We send word once we’re already on the road.”

“Very well.” Kelda pockets the pouch and relief eases Euphemia’s chest. “I’ll send a letter in the morning so they know where you are. When we arrive at Thorfell, I’ll send the bride price, and see to it that your sister’s dowry is returned as well.”

Euphemia doesn’t even have the pretense in her to insist the woman has deduced incorrectly. “Thank you.”

With a nod, Kelda motions for Euphemia to follow. “Come. I have a carriage waiting for us.”

As Kelda starts walking, Euphemia gives one final glance toward the town behind her. The place where she grew up. Her home. The keeper of her fondest memories—and her darkest.

In the distance, a chilling whinny splits the night.

Euphemia hurries after Kelda and climbs into the carriage. There is no driver waiting at the front. Surely, a countess should have one. But after the day she’s had, she decides she has no room left for questions as Kelda takes the reins herself, and the carriage rumbles out of town.

Euphemia tells herself that this time it will be different. This time she will best the nightmare stalking her. The temptation that vexes her. The curse that has ruined her.

For the first time in her life, she has no idea what lies ahead.

Perhaps that is frightening.

Perhaps it will be freeing.

Then, through the window, Euphemia sees the figure. Broad shoulders roiling with shadows. A man watching the carriage disappear down the road.

And somehow, it feels as though this is what he’s wanted all along.

Chapter 8

Named After the Old Gods

With the carriage bobbing along the uneven plains, Euphemia peers outside to watch with rapture as she crosses into Northumbria. In all her wildest dreams, she never imagined she’d get to see so much of the country. She thought she’d been destined to stay in her small town all her life. And here she is, venturing into the great north.

Crossing into the northern territory is like watching a candleflame wink out.