Page 53 of Whisper of Nightmares

“Ah. I forgot to tell you the happy news. My son has wed—an English-born woman, at that.”

Euphemia’s breath catches. Even now, hearing Kelda say it aloud feels strange.

Slowly, Percival’s head starts to shake. “That…cannot be. You said his condition has not changed.”

“It has not. We improvised.”

The look that crosses Percival’s face is one of true horror, and Euphemia is the cause. He stares at her as if she is monstruous. A demon in the flesh.

The image of the creature from her dream flickers through Euphemia’s mind—cloven hooves and a brimstone voice.

As Percival staggers back from her, Euphemia shrinks in her seat.

“You cannot do this,” Percival stammers.

Kelda holds out her arms and laughs. “Do what? It is already done. They were wed, their souls bound for this life and the next.”

Euphemia expects him to continue arguing, but his shadowed eyes are focused on her now. “Is this true, girl? Did you marry a grievously ill man?”

“I—”

Kelda swats him away. “You will address her as Lady Euphemia, Percival. She is the Countess of Thorfell now.”

“She is most certainly not,” he snarls, nose crinkling at Euphemia like he can smell the peasant on her. “If Dagfinn is still asleep, they have not consummated their marriage, and the people will not honor it.”

Heat crawls up Euphemia’s neck. Her hand instinctively presses against her skirt, as though she might somehow hide the truth Percival has just revealed.

This time, it’s Asvald who comes to her defense.

“And who will tell them that this union is anything but sanctified?” Broad shoulders fill the gap between the table and the wall, blocking the candle’s glow and casting Percival in a bulky shadow three times his size. Asvald crosses his arms. “Will it be you, rat?”

Nostrils flaring, Percival staggers back another few steps.

To his credit, he does not flee the room sniveling.

He manages to claim a small corner at the end of the table to make his final stand.

“I will not need to tell them. They are demanding their new lord appears at the town assembly by month’s end. His absence cannot continue. If he does not show, it will not matter how legitimate you believe their unconsummated marriage to be. The people will strip him of his lordship, and you will lose everything.” In a final flourish, Percival tosses the documents onto the table. “My offer remains. Consider it wisely.”

As he storms away, his cynical eyes snag on Euphemia one final time, something sinister etched in his stony grey irises.

Then he’s bursting through the double doors and into the hallway beyond.

“Don’t bother coming back!” Kelda yells after him.

As they listen to his footsteps echoing down the corridor, Asvald steps forward. “Want me to make sure he doesn’t get lost?

“Don’t bother,” Kelda sighs. “Rats always know their way out. It’s the getting back in that I’m concerned about.”

Knowingly, he nods. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again.”

Asvald’s thundering strides make it all the way to the end of the table. He picks up the settlement proposal. Before he can crumple it in his fist, Kelda holds up a hand.

“Stop. Leave it. I would like to read it over.” At the concerned look he gives her, Kelda amends. “Percival’s entire worth was outlined in those documents. It is best to understand your enemy than to be blindsided by them.”

Hesitantly, Asvald hands the documents back to Kelda, who carefully folds them before placing them in one of her pockets.

“Who was that exactly?” Euphemia asks, though she thinks she’s started to form a guess.