Help! My Ghosts Want Me to Marry a Necromancer!

Thalia Rivers — POV

"Shit!"

A loud crash came from the kitchen, startling me so badly that my elbow struck the table and sent several papers fluttering to the floor.

I barely managed to catch myself before falling out of the chair.

For a moment, I sat there with my heart pounding, staring toward the kitchen doorway as though something terrible might come crawling out.

Then I remembered that I was twenty-four years old and supposedly a sensible adult.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Thalia." I pressed a hand against my chest, thoroughly embarrassed by my reaction. "It's probably another broken plate."

Unfortunately, broken plates were becoming rather common around here.

It had been exactly three days since I'd returned from the capital to take over my grandmother's inn, and I was already beginning to question every decision that had brought me here.

Three days of scrubbing floors, clearing dusty rooms, and discovering new expenses whenever I opened a cupboard.

Grandmother hadn't left me an instruction manual. She'd left me an aging building with a leaking roof, furniture that desperately needed replacing, and enough unpaid bills to give me a headache.

And now, apparently, the kitchen was falling apart too.

Grabbing the lantern beside my papers, I rose from the chair and headed toward the noise.

"Please don't be another plate," I muttered as I approached the doorway. "I haven't even served my first customer."

The kitchen was empty when I entered, although a saucepan lay on the floor near the counter.

I frowned.

I'd washed that saucepan earlier and distinctly remembered hanging it beside the other cooking utensils.

Holding the lantern higher, I examined the row of metal hooks above the counter. One was hanging slightly crooked, which probably explained how the saucepan had fallen.

At least it hadn't broken.

I picked it up and placed it on the counter, deciding that repairing the hook could wait until tomorrow.

The kitchen was looking considerably better than when I'd arrived. The counters were clean, the cupboards had finally been emptied of their accumulated dust, and I'd scrubbed most of the stains from the cooking hearth.

It wasn't perfect, but at least someone could prepare a meal here without worrying about catching a mysterious disease.

Grandmother had managed this entire establishment for years, somehow keeping everything running while still finding time to care for her guests.

I was beginning to suspect she'd possessed some extraordinary magical ability.

Not that such a thing would have surprised me. Magic existed throughout the kingdom, although the truly impressive spells generally belonged to people who had spent years studying them.

I'd never demonstrated the slightest magical talent myself.

The closest I'd ever come to performing a miracle was making my monthly wages disappear within a week.

And I was remarkably talented at that.

With another sigh, I returned to the common room, intending to finish reviewing the accounts before going upstairs.

That was when I noticed something strange.

The dining table had been set.

I stopped beside my chair and stared at the long wooden table near the fireplace.

Six plates, six cups, and six sets of cutlery had been arranged neatly around it, as though someone was expecting a dinner party.

For several seconds, I couldn't understand what I was looking at.

Hadn't I cleared that table earlier?

I was certain I had. I'd spent nearly an hour wiping it down before returning every plate and cup to the kitchen.

Yet there they were again, arranged more neatly than I could remember arranging them myself.

"What on earth...?"

I approached the table and picked up one of the cups. It was perfectly clean, and even the cutlery had been placed with unusual care.

The arrangement would've been rather impressive if I hadn't been the only person staying at the inn.

A troubling thought occurred to me.

What if someone had entered the building?

I slowly lowered the cup.

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

My voice carried through the common room, but nobody answered.

I waited for a moment before heading toward the entrance to check the lock. The front door was still secured, and the windows beside it were closed.

Perhaps someone had entered through the kitchen.

I checked the passage and glanced behind the counter, although I wasn't entirely certain what I'd do if I actually discovered an intruder.

Considering how I'd reacted to a falling saucepan, screaming seemed like a reasonable possibility.

Fortunately, there was nobody hiding in the passage, and the kitchen remained empty when I checked it again.

I returned to the common room, growing increasingly irritated with myself.

Perhaps I'd simply forgotten setting the table. I'd barely slept since arriving, and spending three days cleaning an entire building wasn't exactly good for one's memory.

Although preparing six dinner settings when I didn't have a single customer seemed like an oddly specific mistake.

I was still considering that possibility when a faint scraping noise reached my ears.

My steps slowed.

It sounded remarkably like a chair being dragged across the wooden floor.

I turned toward the dining area.

One of the chairs had been pulled away from the table.

I stared at it, trying to remember whether it had been like that a moment earlier, but I was certain every chair had been tucked neatly beneath the table.

Yet there it was, sitting several feet away from where it belonged.

A cold, unpleasant feeling settled in my stomach.

The doors were locked, the windows were secured, and I'd just checked the kitchen.

There was nobody else inside the building.

At least, nobody I could see.

I tightened my grip on the lantern as another possibility occurred to me.

What if someone had been moving things around while I wasn't looking?

And if that was true, then whoever had prepared those six dinner settings might still be here.

Somewhere inside my inn.