Page 96 of Whisper of Nightmares

“You,” Cybele whispers.

Percival’s brow furrows. “Have we met before?”

Instead of answering him, Cybele turns her confusion upon Euphemia. “This is your husband?”

Euphemia just stands there too stunned to respond, but mostly because of the way Cybele said it. Like she sounded betrayed. Euphemia can’t make sense of it.

Before she has a chance to correct her assumption, Percival clutches his chest and staggers back as if he’s just watched a cockroach skitter from her mouth.

“Me? Married to someone of her standing? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Euphemia might’ve been offended if she wasn’t still ensnared by her sister’s gaze. They become locked in a silent war, Cybele’s eyes bulging and darting toward him, as if she’s trying to convey something.

Finally she gives up on silence and whispers into Euphemia’s ear, “That’s the man I saw Thurstan speaking to.”

A chill slips down Euphemia’s spine.

From across the foyer, Asvald barks, “The only ridiculous thing here is you, Percival. Now, you can either leave willingly, or I can make you. Choice is yours.”

Percival chuckles, his patience waning. “As I’ve said already, it is imperative I speak with Kelda at once. I have no intentions of leaving this manor until she comes down here and hears what I have to say. So if you would be so kind as to go and fetch her, then I will⁠—”

A knife whizzes past Percival’s cheek. It sticks into the door behind him.

Percival’s body becomes as rigid as stone.

“How dare you come back her.” Kelda’s voice is the low, vicious growl of a wolf ready to pounce.

Confusion creases Percival’s brow. “I-I beg your pardon?”

“I already told you, I won’t be marrying you.”

He flashes an uncomfortable smile. “I’m not here about that proposal.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” she mutters. Then, folding her arms, Kelda watches him. “Well then? What is it? Let’s get this over with so I can go back to bed.”

Percival clenches his hands.

Unclenches them.

Then he opens one side of his cloak.

“I came to give you a warning. As a courtesy. As your friend.” He ignores the rolling of her eyes as he gestures to a folded envelope stuffed in his inner pocket. “May I?”

“That depends. Am I going to like it?”

“No,” he says, retrieving the envelope without further approval.

Percival unfolds the parchment.

He hands it to Kelda.

Instead of reading it, she simply stares at him. “What is it?”

Her complete lack of interest and concern seems to knock him off balance. But he’s quick to recover.

“The deed to this estate. And some rather interesting documentation concerning the family who held these lands before Otho. Before Rayner.”

The name snags in Euphemia’s ear.