There, hanging upside down from the carved post of my bed, was a small, wide-eyed bat. Chewing on one of my sugared violets.
“Don’t mind me,” he said around a mouthful. “I was testing your hospitality. For research purposes.”
I blinked. “Nibble?”
He flipped upright midair, fluttering down to perch on the chair like it was a throne. “Shadow, technically, but I’ll forgive the slip. You mortals are bad with names.”
Mortals, I noted.
I stared at the empty dish where the candied violets had once been.
“You ate all of them.”
“They were endangered,” he said solemnly. “Extinct now.”
“They were mine.”
“I was acting on orders!” he chirped, unfazed. “Emrys told me to keep an eye on you. Said you were prone to poking cursed things, attracting spirits, and emotionally devastated centuries-old immortals.”
I blinked. “He said what?”
“Well,” Nibble waved a tiny paw, “not in those exact words, but it was implied.”
I sank into the chair across from him. “So, you’re spying on me?”
“Spying? Please. I’m supervising.” He licked sugar off his claws. “Also, have you seen how you wander around this manor like a sleepwalker with a death wish? The room with the wards? And you fell into the lake? Who does that? I needed all this sugar to recover.”
“I didn’t ask for a furry babysitter.”
“Too bad. I come with the haunted house package. And before you say something rude, let me remind you—I’m the only one here who doesn’t want something from you. Except some more violets.”
I sat on the bed and crossed my arms, unsure whether to throw him out or ask him to stay.
“So do you run… erm, fly to him and report him everything I do?”
Nibble shrugged. “No. Just when something interesting happens. Like you sneaking into places you shouldn’t or getting chummy with undead lake women.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re unbearable.”
He preened again. “Adorable and unbearable. It’s a gift.”
He tilted his head, his wide eyes shimmered, and he looked heartbreakingly cute. “Emrys didn’t tell me what you are. But he cares. That’s rare for him.”
“I don’t care what he thinks.”
“You do,” Nibble said. “That’s the scary part.”
I looked away, frustrated because I knew that bat was right. “What does he want from me?”
“Honestly?” He stretched his wings and wrapped them around himself like a tiny cloak. “I don’t think he knows yet. But it’s not just curiosity anymore. There’s something about you, Miss Daphne. Some echo. Some old thread tugging at his memory.”
I swallowed. Branwyn.
The room was quiet again. Only the creak of the manor’s bones and the soft tap of tree branches against the window.
“Who’s Branwyn?” I asked. He’d probably report this to Emrys, but I needed an answer. The longer I spent here, the more the mystery surrounding him intensified.
His furry chest sunk. “It was someone…very dear to him. Someone who died long ago.”
