Page 66 of Lost in the Dark

She’d been bought.

This castle was her home now.

A shuddering gasp snuck out her mouth. It echoed in the room, mimicked by the mora until the windows rattled in their lead panes. Then it stopped, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Had the mora left?

Afraid to so much as move in case she invited their return, she lay awake under the covers until the cool light of dawn crept beneath her sheets. As the light grew, she eased the blanket aside and peeked out at her room. Nothing moved and no words crept from the shadows.

Be brave.

Throwing back the sheets, she leaped from the bed, shot across the room to the windows, and pulled back the heavy curtains.

White, winter sunlight filled the chamber.

She spun around and breathed a sigh of relief.

Nothing but wood-paneled walls, gilt furniture, and rich fabrics met her gaze—no creeping shadows or ghostly figures. Thank the gods. Had she imagined the mora? Gods, but she hoped so. Nightmares she could handle. Tension leaking from her bones, she turned to the window and trailed her fingers across the red damask curtain—it put her meager dowry to shame.

Opening the latch, she stepped onto the small balcony outside.

A dove the color of clotted cream fluttered onto the railing and Anna smiled at the bird. Better to focus on this hopeful bird than last night’s worries. “I am a wife now, my snow-white friend,” she said, propping her elbows on the rail and drawing in a breath of cold morning air. “And I shall give him no reason to doubt his choice.”

Drawing herself up, she returned inside and closed the window. She’d don her best skirt and bodice and—

She clamped a hand over her mouth.

Three red drops of blood stained the floor.

The rap of heavy knuckles against the door jerked her attention from the circles of red marking the stone. She took a few steps toward the door and paused, suddenly aware of her state of undress.

“Yes?” she called out. “Husband?”

“No,” a deep voice rumbled. “Enulf.”

She touched the handle and heat rushed through her at the thought of opening the door and letting him see her in her nightshift. The garment covered her from head-to-toe, but in the light of morning the worn fabric would resemble a clouded window. He’d be able to see far too much.

Or just enough, a sinful voice whispered.

She cleared her throat. “Is… is there something I can—”

“I should have told you last night: In this household, we are expected to be ready for breakfast promptly at seven in the morning. You will know the time by the clock.” His words were more stilted this morning than they’d been last night, a strange rasp texturing the sounds. “It is already after six. Ready yourself as best you can. There are… no clothes for you yet, but look your best.”

She blinked at the flood of information. “What do you mean there are no clothes—”

“Your morning basin is outside the door.”

She waited, but nothing further came.

Opening the door a crack, she found the hallway empty, barely catching Enulf’s limping form before it disappeared out of sight around a corner. Her gaze dropped to the jug of fresh water sitting on the floor.

Demons take it.

How was she to look her best when she had nothing but what she’d brought with her? Her best dress was what she’d arrived in and…Doesn’t matter. Her new husband had given her a home, and had given her family the means to survive. Asking her to be prompt for breakfast wasn’t unreasonable.

No doubt he wanted her to select her own wardrobe—honestly, when she thought about it, it was thoughtful to wait for her input.

She’d wash her face, freshen her dress and be on time.

---