She flushed again, dipping her head. “O-of course, Your Highness. Forgive me. When I neared the lighthouse, something moved in the shadows. It—it spooked Cabot, of course, and he nearly drove us off the cliff in his haste to flee. A wheel snapped on the bluff. I managed to free Cabot before the whole carriage tumbled into the sea . . . or at least, it would’ve if the creature hadn’t wrenched it free.” She shuddered. “I’ve never seen such a monster. Long, matted hair and skin cloaked in shadow. Sharp white teeth. It smelled of rot too. Decaying flesh. I’m quite certain if I hadn’t escaped on Cabot’s back, it would’ve eaten us both.” She exhaled heavily, lifting her eyes to mine. “So, you see, I left Cabot at the stable, not my carriage. I simply cannot return for it while it remains in the creature’s possession, and I cannot risk traveling without it either. I must stay with you, Reid, or I’ll never make it home at all.”

“Cauchemar,” Lou murmured.

I extended a weary hand to her. “What?”

With a small smile, she laced her fingers through mine. They remained like ice. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you—”

“A cauchemar has indeed taken up residence in the lighthouse.” At our blank looks, Father Achille grudgingly added, “A nightmare. That’s what the villagers call it, anyway. It found us here in Fée Tombe three days ago, and they’re all terrified.” He scowled and shook his head. “The fools are planning to raze the lighthouse in the morning.”

Something in his scowl made me pause. “Has this cauchemar harmed anyone?”

“Aside from me?” Célie asked. “It nearly frightened Cabot and me to death!”

Coco scoffed beneath her hood. “What a tragedy that would’ve been.”

“Coco,” Beau admonished. “That was beneath you. If you’re going to be spiteful, at least be clever about it.”

“Not spiteful at all,” she said sweetly. “I would’ve mourned the horse.”

“I beg your pardon?” Célie wheeled around to face her, mouth slack with disbelief. “I—I am terribly sorry about your m-mother’s necklace, Cosette, but I didn’t know—”

I spoke over her. “Has the cauchemar harmed anyone?”

Father Achille shrugged. “It hardly matters.”

“It matters to me.”

“That mob is coming, boy. You’ll get yourself killed.”

“You don’t care.”

“That’s right.” His nostrils flared. “I don’t. Cauchemars are notoriously cruel, but this creature hasn’t yet attacked. Last night, it broke into the boucherie and stole some scraps, but that’s the extent of my knowledge.” When I exchanged a glance first with Lou, then with Beau, he gritted his teeth and said, as if the words physically pained him, “You should stay out of it. This isn’t your fight.”