Page 37 of Whisper of Nightmares

Shadows shudder on the stone walls as the light from the candelabrum fades.

Euphemia refuses to be left behind in the darkness again.

Chasing after her, Euphemia’s voice carries throughout the stairwell. “What happened to him?”

“That is none of your concern.”

“I’m making it my concern,” Euphemia replies with mocking sweetness, earning her a brief glare from the woman. But they keep moving, trudging down the stairs with haste as if they can outrun each other. But the stairwell is as infinite as this cursed arrangement. They are trapped together. And if this is to be the rest of Euphemia’s life, she will not be left in the dark, literally nor figuratively. “He’s my husband now, thanks to you. I think I deserve to know how he came to be in the state that he’s in.”

Reaching the bottom steps, Kelda whirls on her. “It does not matter how Dagfinn was cursed! Only that he is.”

Her ferocity rattles the stones.

The two of them stand there, chests heaving, eyes locked.

Euphemia can all but hear her mother in her head. It didn’t take long for you to be reduced to your anger. But Euphemia can’t bring herself to stand down. Not now when the answers she seeks are so close. Not when they are the least she deserves.

A hand falls from the shadows, landing on Kelda’s shoulder.

Asvald steps forward, towering over her like her personal angel. His presence is both gentle and stern, things Euphemia did not know could coexist until now.

Kelda shrugs away his touch. “I’m fine, Asvald. Honestly.”

“If you say as much.” He backs away, arms raised until he reaches the wall. Leaning against it, he folds his arms over his broad chest, gaze settling on Euphemia. However, his words are for Kelda. “You dragged her into this.”

“I know,” the woman grumbles.

“She has a right to know.”

“I know!” Kelda says more firmly. She presses her face into her tattooed hand, rubbing her temples.

Even this small display of frustration is more compromise than Euphemia has seen from her yet. It makes her stand a little taller, eager to hear what she might be willing to share.

Slowly, Euphemia climbs down the final step, gravitating toward Asvald in case she needs to rely upon him for protection again. She thinks back to that moment in the tower, and what she would’ve done without him. At the time, she had been so surprised and frightened, Euphemia had only been thinking about the physical threat of it all.

But now, a new detail stands out.

Something she hadn’t been able to fully focus on before.

“What did you mean when you said he called out my name?”

The air in the corridor shifts.

She knows she should’ve let Kelda speak in her own time, lest she might spook her into a frenzy again. But Euphemia cannot help it. Once her curiosities are stoked, there is no containing them.

Fortunately, Kelda merely sighs, her head slumping fully now. Wisps of blonde hair cover her eyes, but they cannot conceal the weight in her tone. The exhaustion. The disappointment. “He’s been doing that for a time now, muttering in his sleep. Most days, I cannot tell what he’s saying. Ramblings and mutterings with no real meaning.” She crosses the narrow hall to stare out one of the arched windows, slick with rain. “But then I heard it. An unusual name cried out in the dead of night. Euphemia.”

Euphemia’s stomach flips.

She glances to Asvald, but he is a picture of stoicism, a gargoyle on the wall, watching.

Kelda sighs. “For a full month, that name did not cross my mind. Until he said it again. Euphemia. Euphemia.”

Kelda looks over, gaze locking upon her like a bear trap around the throat.

“A name spoken like a dying breath.” Kelda’s gaze veers toward the dark stairwell, releasing Euphemia. “Asvald and I began searching. We asked everyone in town. Then we asked in neighboring towns. We searched for someone with a mother—a sister—a daughter—anyone named Euphemia.” With heavy finality, she says, “We found none and gave up for a brief time. But there was no ignoring it. Dagfinn called out that name more and more, this woman becoming a constant presence in our home even when she was not there.”

The moon casts a wispy sheen of light across Kelda’s weary face.