Page 31 of Whisper of Nightmares

Finally, a glimpse of life.

Dozens of candles flicker in the draft, their orange flames quivering before settling once more.

With purpose, Kelda storms inside, tossing her sodden shawl to the floor as she calls out, “Is it all ready?”

Behind Euphemia, a voice like thunder answers, “Of course. I had everything prepared after I received word from you last night.”

Asvald is so close behind her that Euphemia nearly jumps. She had forgotten the old man was still there.

“Good. Good,” Kelda says, making her way across the room. “Euphemia, come.”

Euphemia’s eyes are wide as she takes in the great hall. Chandeliers of antlers hang from the ceiling. They sway ever so slightly, and for a moment, Euphemia worries they might fall. She scans the rest of the room, searching for the one person she thought would be here by now.

“Where is Dagfinn?”

Kelda does not answer. She reaches the altar and grabs the leather binding from atop it.

Euphemia approaches, heart hammering against her ribs. She focuses instead on the foliage decorating this side of the room. Bushels of rowan and birch interwoven with dandelions, meadowsweet, and yarrow. Dagfinn will be there soon, she tells herself. Any moment now and he will walk through those doors and join her.

When Euphemia is close enough, Kelda grabs her by the hand, yanking her forward. Hastily, she begins wrapping the leather over and under Euphemia’s hand.

“Where’s Dagfinn?” Euphemia can’t keep the edge from her voice this time. Because she knows Kelda heard her before. Knows her voice carried well into the rafters. Knows this ceremony is being rushed and that something is amiss.

“You didn’t tell her?” The growl in Asvald’s voice makes him sound like a bear being roused early from his slumber.

Kelda rolls her eyes at the man before motioning for him to continue.

Asvald steps closer to the altar and clears his throat.

Euphemia watches him open his mouth to begin, but there is only so much she can endure. This bargain will only protect her family if it’s legitimate, and it won’t be without a man for her to marry.

Euphemia jerks her hand away, the bindings unraveling. “Am I to marry a ghost? The sea air?”

She levels a glare at Kelda, who, with a scoff, bends to retrieve the leather straps.

This time, Euphemia makes sure her tone is understood. “Where is Dagfinn?”

“You’ll meet him after the ceremony.”

“After? That’s absurd. There can be no ceremony without a groom.”

“For now, that is the way it has to be.” Kelda shrugs. Holding an end of the leather strip in each hand, she juts her chin toward Euphemia. “Give me your hand. Now.”

A heated breath of air slips between Euphemia’s lips as she gawks at the absurdity of it all. If anyone will understand her, it might be the man responsible for the ceremony itself, so she turns her pleading gaze upon Asvald. “Surely, you won’t abide by this? My marriage won’t be authentic without a husband present!”

Asvald looks to Kelda as if seeking permission to speak, before eyeing Euphemia with pity. “This is the way it will be done tonight.”

Euphemia’s jaw drops, thoroughly scandalized. She doesn’t understand. The entire point of this marriage is to ensure no one can harass her family about her abscondence, and for the Varinsson’s to fortify their claim on the lands. If the people can contend the union in any way, what will be the point of it all?

“Do you accept these terms—” Kelda shifts her weight onto one hip “—or should I send you back home?”

The mere suggestion is a bucket of cold water.

Euphemia can’t say no. Can’t return home and continue burdening her family, her community. She needs to put an end to this. And if Kelda isn’t concerned about their claim to the lands, then Euphemia doesn’t need to be either. As long as she makes an honest woman of herself, the nightmare should disappear.

Spine straightening, Euphemia stands taller before slapping her hand atop the presented leather straps. “Ready when you are.”

Asvald begins the ceremony.