Page 92 of Whisper of Nightmares

Euphemia can hardly keep up with her barrage of questions. “Cybele, please. Slow down.”

“What?” she asks, feigning innocence. “I’m merely wanting to know more about the mysterious baron who fancied a commoner and stole her in the dead of night.”

“No one stole anyone.” Kelda’s voice crackles like the fire now brewing in the hearth. She takes a seat in one of the armchairs, her icy gaze fixing on Cybele. “Dagfinn proposed. Euphemia agreed.”

Cybele matches her glare. “Our mother did not agree to anything though. You took Euphemia from us without her permission.”

“Took her? Euphemia came willingly. Eagerly.”

Hurt smears Cybele’s expression. She turns toward her. “Eagerly? Is this true?”

The room suddenly feels too cavernous for such an intimate conversation.

Euphemia wishes she could take her sister’s hands into her own and rub away her doubts. Instead, they might as well be countries apart.

“I did. We needed the money and⁠—”

“So you just left? Married yourself into a fancy life, and you did it all so selflessly for your family? Am I really supposed to believe that?” Cybele scoffs. “That’s horse shit, and you know it. We needed you. And you left us.”

Euphemia has to blink back her tears. “No. I—the bride price?”

Euphemia’s voice cracks on the last words. She looks to Kelda now, dread creeping into her chest. She hadn’t made sure the dowry had been returned, nor had she made sure the bride price had been sent. She’d simply trusted her

But as Euphemia stares at Kelda, she can see the woman looks just as confused and disturbed as she.

Kelda addresses Cybele with something like deference now. “It was never our intention to leave your family wanting. If it’s more money you need, then⁠—”

“It’s not about the money!” Cybele blusters, her cheeks as red as the coals. But it’s Euphemia who she aims her outrage at. “You left without a word. Ismene was beside herself—she said you stole my dowry and told her not to tell anyone. Do you have any idea what sort of position that put her in? And Atia? She’s been inconsolable for days. Always asking where you are and when you’ll be back. And Mother? She blames herself, you know. Says she pushed you away. Thinks she failed our father because of it. Because he would’ve done better. He would’ve made you stay.”

There is no holding back the tears now. Not when confronted by something like this.

It is teeth sinking into flesh.

Ripping her open.

Baring her raw, tender flesh.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

When Euphemia left, they were supposed to be free. Cared for. Better off.

Somehow, even when she makes the right decisions by them, she still fails them somehow.

“Come home, Euphemia,” her sister pleads.

The room is silent for a long, long while, with only the fire’s crackling and the rains rhythm to fill it. But no matter how much time passes, Euphemia cannot bring herself to speak. She does not know what she would say.

Finally, Kelda stands, attention fixed on Euphemia. “You are no prisoner here, little cloud. If you wish to visit your family, you are able to do so.” Then, turning to Cybele, she adds with the bite of a guard dog, “Your mother is right to blame herself. She treated Euphemia poorly, as one might treat a rat. If I were her, I would be grateful my daughter wed a man who would never dare treat her so unkindly.”

Turning, Kelda marches from the room, leaving Cybele gawking and Euphemia in stunned silence.

No one has ever stood up for her like that before. Not when it comes to her mother.

Her thoughts snag on something else though. Something Kelda said about Dagfinn.

A man who would never dare treat her so unkindly.

It is yet another small detail about the husband she herself does not know yet. And her chest both eases with relief and hitches with guilt. For she knows in her heart, she has been flirting with temptation again, no matter how many times she tells herself she isn’t.