Page 117 of Whisper of Nightmares

They throw the door shut behind them just as the tidal wave crashes.

The bones shudder.

The palace creaks and groans.

A pool of ocean water surges through the crack at the bottom of the door.

Not nearly an ocean’s worth though. Somehow, Náströnd keeps the ocean at bay.

Ash and Euphemia shuffle away from the door and the water oozing beneath it. They don’t venture into the corridors. Instead, they find a set of stairs and succumb to exhaustion.

Euphemia rests her hand on the railing, and exhales the heaviest, most shuddering breath of her life. “What was that out there?”

He looks at her confused. “I already told you. Those were the Wave Maidens.”

“Yes, I know that. But what are they? Or who? Or…”

Euphemia’s questions trail off and she notices Ash scanning their surroundings, searching the foyer and upper landing for danger. She had nearly forgotten where they were, only narrowly escaping one danger to inadvertently stumble into another.

Seemingly deeming the area safe for the time being, Ash returns to where he left her on the stairs.

The moment he looks at her, his eyes furrow. He notes her quivering lip. The goosebumps on her flesh. The sodden chemise clinging to her pale skin, nearly translucent now that the sea has soaked through it.

Removing the fur pelt from his shoulders, Ash drapes it around her.

“I’m fine. Really⁠—”

“Quiet.”

Euphemia bites her lip and accepts the fur. She’d be foolish not to considering how deeply the cold has pierced her. Besides, it would be immodest to stand around in a nearly translucent chemise anyway.

She should be thanking him.

Pride won’t allow her to. At least, not for that.

“Thank you for coming back for me,” she says instead as he finishes knotting the ties of the fur so it stays in place.

He gives the pelt a small adjustment, then his eyes flick down to her chest to ensure she’s properly covered. “Does that mean I am forgiven?”

Her confusion is fleeting. Euphemia tucks herself inside the warm pelt, already feeling warmed. “That depends. Do you remember that night?”

“I remember nothing unless I am with you.”

It does something strange to the pit of her belly to hear him say it. Something warm. Dangerous. Entirely too welcome.

Euphemia brushes past him with her nose in the air.

“Where are you going?” he asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

She ascends the stairs with no answer in mind. Truthfully, she doesn’t mean to venture very far, there is simply something about being on the lower level in this place that makes her uneasy.

As she crests the top of the staircase, Euphemia examines the upper landing.

She’s surprised to find that, unlike the bottom floor that is littered with bones, snakes, and debris, much of the upper floor seems relatively normal. The walls are hewn from stone. And though there are a few bones scattered here and there, there are no slithering creatures to be found.

It’s like they’ve entered an entirely new building…

In this place, she supposes it’s possible they have.