Page 54 of Whisper of Nightmares

“Percival is the keeper of deeds,” answers Kelda. “But don’t mind him none. He is a bored man trying to outgrow his small britches.” Turning to Asvald, she adds glibly, “I never did like him.”

“Neither did I,” he says.

She rubs her temples and closes her eyes. “I told Otho to find someone else to handle our assets. He refused. Said no one else could be trusted.”

Asvald snorts. “I’d sooner trust a fox in a henhouse.”

Chuckling to herself, Kelda nods.

And before silence can return to the great hall, Kelda smacks her hands together, addressing Euphemia. “I’m afraid I am in need of fresh air after such an endeavor. Care to join me on a walk around the compound?”

Chapter 12

A Ghostly Hello

Outside, the rain has stopped pouring for the moment, but the air remains damp. Clouds hang heavy above, and the winds howl like a constant, pained companion walking alongside them.

Euphemia draws the cloak Kelda had provided her before they left the manor tighter around her shoulders.

“Does Percival come around often?”

“Like most vermin, he is a pest that never seems to go away.” Though Kelda continues walking, she casts a regretful glance in Euphemia’s direction. “I am sorry you had to meet him. I had hoped news of our return wouldn’t reach him for a few more days.”

Euphemia shakes her head the way one might to say it was no bother, even though the encounter has left her unsettled. After all, everything Percival said held some truth. Without a man to head the household, what would become of their titles? Their sense of security? How long before none of it mattered?

More and more, Euphemia finds herself wondering what they can do to end Dagfinn’s curse.

If only her new mother-in-law would speak about him more. All she’s been able to wring from her is that tidbit about his love of science. Euphemia wants to learn more.

They round the side of the manor where the ivy grows thickest. It climbs up the stonework, strangling it into a sickly hue. Down below, the grounds are just as untamed. The garden bed behind the kitchen is overgrown with weeds—dandelions and nettles that Euphemia can’t help but think could make for an interesting ale. Something bright and cheerful, like spring. Just in time for Percival’s proposed wedding…

Shoving the unwelcome thought aside, Euphemia looks out across the rocky moor. It is habit to scan her surroundings for the nightmare, but today it is a different creature she searches for. Fortunately, his bone face and tall stature is nowhere to be found.

Though off in the distance, tucked along a jagged cliffside, Euphemia spots what appears to be a modest home on some untended farmland.

Euphemia gestures toward the home. “Who lives there?”

Kelda barely looks, her attention fixed on the stables ahead. “Just an old servant’s home. Asvald lived there until Otho died. After, it made more sense to have him close at hand.”

Unease permeates her core.

The idea of having an abandoned building so close to their home is unsettling to say the least. Though what is she going to do about it? Insist Asvald moves back in?

“You two seem close,” Euphemia says instead.

“As close as any two people who’ve spent their entire lives together can be.”

Euphemia blinks away her surprise. “You’ve known him that long?”

“Since I was but a girl.” Something forlorn creeps into Kelda’s voice. “Asvald was sent with me when I came to Thorfell to marry Otho.”

Their relationship is starting to make sense. No wonder they share so many cryptic glances and unspoken conversations. She is able to do the same with her sisters—was able.

Euphemia swallows the grief before it can turn to stone in her throat. “Was he sent as a guard then?”

“No,” Kelda laughs. “He was sent as comfort. A reminder of my home.”

“And where was your home?”