Page 93 of Whisper of Nightmares

With Kelda out of the room, the air of hostility around Cybele wanes.

Cybele buries her face in her hands, her sobs muffled. “Euphemia, please. We can’t lose you too.”

Euphemia stands from her settee and Cybele scoots over for her to sit next to her.

“You haven’t lost me. I’m right here.”

Cybele lifts her gaze, eyes raw. “Things are not well back at home.”

Euphemia’s stomach twists. “What do you mean?”

Cybele looks toward the fire. “People have stopped coming to the Saint’s Hearth.”

“What?”

“They stopped trading with us too. Stopped buying from her. Some won’t even speak to her.”

Euphemia feels something cold settling beneath her ribs.

She frowns, unable to keep the panic from her voice. “Why?”

Slowly, Cybele drags her smoldering gaze from the fire.

“Thurstan,” Cybele says around clenched teeth. “He’s told everyone Mother stole what was his and gave it to another man.”

It takes Euphemia a moment to realize what he means. “Me? He’s saying I was his?”

Cybele head wobbles as if to say she knows it sounds insane but it’s true. “That’s what he’s told everyone.”

“But—” a panicked laugh escapes her. “I was never his to begin with!”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? He’s gone and told everyone that you and Conwal were engaged.”

“What?”

“Says he proposed to you the night before and you gleefully said yes—but then Mother found out and was worried Conwal would take her tavern so she married you off to the first animal who would have you.”

With every word Cybele utters, Euphemia feels more and more like she’s drowning. Lost at sea. Wave after wave crashes atop her. Throwing her between the breakers. Leaving her dizzy. Spinning. Gasping for air.

Her hands tremble in her lap.

“None of that is true,” Euphemia swears, hoping her sister won’t mistake the shaking in her voice for anything but unfettered rage.

“I know,” Cybele says. “I saw the two of you in the market that day. I’ve seen you avoiding him for months. If he proposed to you, you would have said no.”

Relief unfurls in Euphemia’s chest, light and soothing.

But it’s swiftly replaced by panic.

“Why are you here then? If things are so bad back at home, why would you leave our mother? Our sisters?”

“Because Thurstan left town a few days after you did.”

“He leaves town all the time though?” Euphemia offers shakily.

“This was different. He left his cart. And the timing was too suspicious for me to let go of. So I confronted Conwal about it⁠—”

“You what?”