Coco flashed him a grin. Amused. It seemed out of place on her grim face. With a start, I realized I couldn’t remember the last time she’d genuinely smiled. Had she ever? Had I seen it? When she pinched his ribs, he yelped and dropped his arm. “You have a beautiful falsetto yourself,” she said. “I’d almost forgotten.”

Though she grinned wider at his outrage—his surprise—her bravado felt fragile. Delicate. I didn’t want to see it break. Buffeting Beau’s shoulder, I said, “Do you remember the witch on Modraniht?”

His mouth flattened. “We do not speak of her.”

“I remember.” Coco shot me an appreciative look. It was there and gone in the blink of an eye. So brief I might’ve imagined it. “She quite liked your little performance, didn’t she?”

“I’m an excellent singer,” Beau sniffed.

“You’re an excellent dancer.”

I laughed despite myself. “I remember Beau running away screaming that night.”

“What is this?” He looked between us, brows and nose wrinkling in alarm. “What’s happening here?”

“She told you what a cauchemar looks like.” Though Coco didn’t look at Célie—didn’t acknowledge her existence whatsoever—I suspected her admission was the only apology Célie would receive. “Don’t be an ass. Listen.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Beau inclined his head in Célie’s direction. She stood a little straighter. “My apologies, madame,” he muttered, sounding like a peevish child. “What I meant was has anyone ever fought a cauchemar? Some actual experience might be the difference between surviving this encounter intact and having our heads thrown to sea.”

“Is that your fear?” Lou tilted her own head to study him. She’d grown unusually silent since reaching the lighthouse. Unusually still. Until now, her eyes hadn’t wavered from the thick shadows at the base of the tower. “Decapitation?”

His frown matched her own. “I—well, it doesn’t seem particularly pleasant, no.”

“But do you fear it?” she pressed. “Does it haunt your dreams?”

Beau scoffed at the peculiar question, not bothering to hide his exasperation. “Show me someone who doesn’t fear decapitation, and I’ll show you a liar.”

“Why?” Coco’s eyes narrowed. “What is it, Lou?”

Lou’s gaze returned to the shadows. She stared at them as if trying to decipher something. As if listening to an unspoken language. “A cauchemar is a nightmare,” she explained in an offhand voice. Still distracted. “It’ll appear differently to each of us, assuming the form of our greatest fears.”

A beat of horrific silence passed as her words sank in.

Our greatest fears. An uncanny awareness skittered down my spine, as if even now, the creature watched us. Learned us. I didn’t even know my greatest fear. I’d never given it thought. Never given it voice. It seemed the cauchemar would do it for me.