Page 29 of Whisper of Nightmares

Of course, she’s likely as nervous as Euphemia is. Any soon-to-be mother-in-law would be in anticipation of the reception to come. She traveled so far to find a bride for him, and yet she will not know how he’ll feel about it until it is too late. It’s a heavy burden to bear, and Euphemia decides it’s her duty to soothe as much of Kelda’s worries about it as she is able.

Taking Kelda’s hands into her own, she says as earnestly as possible, “You don’t have to worry about me changing my mind, Lady Varinsson. I am the one marrying up in station. To become a countess is not an honor I will squander.”

Instead of relief easing the tension in Kelda’s face, all Euphemia sees is the widow rolling her eyes. “Kelda is just fine. We’ll soon be family. No need for such useless formalities.”

Euphemia opens her mouth to apologize, when the manor doors open, a maw of darkness behind them.

Euphemia holds her breath. This is the moment she’s been dreading, the first time she’ll see her husband.

She mutters a silent prayer from the privacy of her own thoughts and hopes God can hear her. “Please let me love him no matter how he looks like, what ails him, or how he treats me. Please let me be dutiful and honorable. Let me be good.”

Through the doorway, a burly figure parts the shadows. A man fills the doorframe almost entirely. Broad shoulders and a wide stance. His hair is ashen and shorn along the sides of his skull—it surprises her it isn’t the color of wheat like his mother’s. Although as he approaches, Euphemia realizes she’s mistaken tattoos for hair. They cover the sides of his skull, strange markings that remind her of the ones on Kelda’s finger.

Euphemia bites her tongue and musters a dainty smile.

Not once does he look in her direction as he lumbers across the courtyard to meet them.

“You’ve returned,” he says to Kelda, with a voice deeper than the ocean. “I was starting to worry.”

“You worried for nothing then, for I have returned.”

Now that he’s closer, Euphemia can’t stop staring and noting every little detail about him. A scar scrapes down his neck. His nose, a crooked shape. His face more weathered than these blustering cliffs.

And as Euphemia watches their unusual and formal interaction, it dawns on her.

This is not Dagfinn. And she must admit, part of her is relieved.

With the effort it would take someone to lift a pebble, he grabs their plump saddlebags and slings them over his shoulder. He nods to Euphemia. “This is her?”

“Aye,” Kelda replies. “Asvald, meet Euphemia. Euphemia, meet Asvald, the family advisor.”

Euphemia grabs her skirts and curtsies. “Oh, like the horse.”

Laughter belts from Kelda’s lungs and she smacks Asvald’s chest. “You hear that, old man? Just like the horse.”

His face is unmoving, but a quiet growl rumbles deep in his chest.

Euphemia hunches over herself. Already she’s making mistakes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean any offense. It really is a pleasure to meet⁠—”

But already, Kelda and Asvald are heading back inside.

Not wanting to be left out in the rain, Euphemia hurries after them, her eyes fixed on the open doorway. She can’t help wondering if Dagfinn is just on the other side, about to come out and greet her at any moment.

The trio ascend the stone steps and enter the manor.

Euphemia expects warmth to finally return to her bones, but the moment she crosses the threshold, a chill settles over her. The manor is just as damp as the world outside, the air cold and stale against her skin; it’s as if she’s stepped into a crypt rather than a home.

Only one of the wall sconces burns in the foyer. There is no fire crackling in a hearth nearby, no warmth radiating through the thick stone walls. If Euphemia listens closely, she’s certain she can hear water dripping somewhere in the dark.

More staggering still is Dagfinn’s continued absence.

Euphemia wraps her arms around her wet shoulders. Surely his staff would have been better prepared for her arrival. Perhaps they hadn’t known they would arrive today—after all, even Asvald seemed surprised.

Maybe her husband is readying himself. Making certain he is presentable before meeting her.

Or perhaps he had no idea she was coming at all.

What if the moment they meet, he decides he does not want her and sends her straight back into the rain?