Page 74 of Lost in the Dark

Surely that was impossible—a Chastry priest had handled the contract, and they forsook all monsters. And yet, she wondered. What if she was right? What if her husband was no man? Man or monster, she needed to fulfill her obligations, needed to ensure her contract stood. In all the stories of her childhood, trolls required a toll. If the lord of this house would not let her pay that price, then perhaps his brother would. “Am I bound to you, or to all the heirs of this house?”

Lord Rathbytten stood. “If you want such a creature, you are welcome to him. He is, after all, of this house.”

“What?” Anna jerked with shock.

“Take what you want,wife,” he laughed. “If you can catch it.”

His cruel revelry filled the room as he left. Hands shaking, necklace burning against her throat, she slowly rose from the table. She turned to where Enulf had stood, and discovered he had already disappeared.

So much for the lord’s disbelief that she could want his half-brother. For it appeared Enulf didn’t want her.

The sun had passed its zenith when Anna leaned against a sideboard, wiped sweat from her brow. Shadows rippled across the room, tipping the space into darkness. Another day drew to an end at Rathbytten, and she was no closer to answers—no closer to securing her future. And,gods, she was so bloody tired. How was she supposed to continue with no help? Resting her head against the freshly polished wood, she closed her eyes and waited until the floor settled beneath her feet.

The cleaning rag slipped from her grip, landed on scrubbed stone with a defeated splat.

Cracking one eye open, she stared at it.

She felt like that rag, used and simultaneously unwanted. Meant to fulfill its purpose and then disappear with the rest of the waste. She’d risen that morning with such determination, such fear of facing Lord Rathbytten.

All that worry, and Enulf hadn’t wanted her.

No one wants this place, the shadows seemed to whisper.Run.

I’ve nowhere to go, she thought in reply. Letting out a deep breath, she crouched to retrieve her rag. The lord and his half-brother didn’t want her, not the way any man should want a wife. Trolls might not be as gone as the Chastry promised. And the mora had given her no respite, coming every night to whisper from shadows and rattle her windowpanes.

She’d thought that if she worked even harder, the spirits would let her rest.

But they never seemed satisfied.

She’d cleaned the portrait gallery, polished the armory, scrubbed the upper hall, dusted all the bedrooms—even Lord Rathbytten’s, though it was about as clean as his clothing—and she’d scoured the entirety of the Great Hall, including the hounds residing within. Yet still, the mora tormented her.

Last night the spirits had been even more insistent than before, appearing before the clock struck midnight and lingering until dawn—they had also sounded different. One voice in particular had been younger.

Pleading. Like a child clutching a toy.

We are trapped, she had whispered.And we persist. You know this. You wear his curse upon your neck.

Cursed.

Life at Rathbytten felt like a curse.

Realizing she’d gripped her necklace, Anna released the jewelry and gave herself a shake. Her necklace hadn’t grown heavier, and there wasn’t a dark sheen to the ruby in its center. No shadows danced through the stone; she was imagining things. The mora were known for twisting words—for tricking their prey.

“Iwillbe mistress here,” she said quietly.

A mistress of cold stone, second to the cook and fed worse than the dogs.

She gave herself another shake. Today she would finish the north wing, and she’d not just clean the floor of decaying rushes and dirt.No. As soon as feeling returned to her fingers she’d finish dusting and brushing all the hunting trophies arrayed on the walls. She wouldn’t creep back into the gallery to look at that painting, or imagine what it might have been like if Enulf had wanted—”

“Anna?”

“Ah!” Spinning around, she clutched the wall for support and stared at Enulf.

Back bent sideways and holding a bucket of steaming water, he stood mere feet from her.

She pressed a palm to her chest and tried to catch her breath. “Good grief. How is it you step so silently in this house?”

One side of his lips quirked. “Practice?”

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