In contrast to Einar, who could almost always be found taking a bath—though she certainly never sought him there—Severa hadn't washed herself even once since they set sail. She didn't see much point in it; out here at sea, no beast could smell her. Still, she worried that once they reached land, she might attract monsters from miles away.

If they did end up stranded on some island teeming with dreadful pyroraptors and Fomorians where she might meet a thousand deaths, it might be better to face them freshly bathed.

"You know what, fine," she muttered. "But don't think for a second I'm putting on one of those ridiculous dresses."

"I told you so," Einar said with a grin.

"Oh, come on, Severa. It'll be amazing. It would look gorgeous on you," Milena pleaded.

"Not as good as it did on me. Should I wear it again?" Einar raised his eyebrows in a playful challenge.

"No, you're my prince tonight," Milena giggled, pressing herself against him.

Severa shot them a disdainful look. "I'm going to wash up. Stay out of my way," she grumbled.

Severa made her way to the washroom, where a large tub stood beneath a golden porthole featuring a stained-glass depiction of a creature that was half-human, half-sea monster, with tentacles for hair and razor-sharp teeth curving in a malevolent smile. At the bottom of the tub lay a heavy golden plug. When she lifted it, the tub filled immediately with green water, though free of the debris that floated in the ocean.

She picked up an ornate glass bottle from the shelf, its stopper shaped like a flower she didn't recognize. Pouring its contents into the bath, she watched as a thick layer of foam covered the green water. Carefully, she slid into the tub.

To her surprise, the water was pleasantly warm—something Severa wasn't used to. Normally, she'd wash in shallow streams in the forest, a miserable chore in the winter and a reluctant necessity even in summer. Now, however, she regretted not doing this sooner.

Nearby, a dark blue gown hung on a ladder next to the tub. Adorned with shimmering gold and small bright gems arranged in elegant patterns, the dress sparkled in the flickering candlelight of the four ornate sconces mounted on the wall. Clearly, Milena had laid it out for her, and secretly, she wanted to wear it. She had always dreamed of ruling a mighty kingdom; a princess dress might not fit that vision, but it brought her a step closer to her ambition—even if only as a mockery of some long-forgotten princess in a faraway land.

Severa leaned back and let the warm water soak her stiff, dirty hair. For once, she felt like a princess, surrounded by luxury and comfort. The warm water relaxed her even more than a soft bed could, and the floral scent filling the room transported her to memories of the forest.

She awoke with a start, realizing she had drifted off. The thought of facing reality no longer terrified her as much as it once had. Tonight, she would drink Gaudorium Elixer and secretly celebrate how glad she was they hadn't found Tir na nOg.

Severa climbed out of the tub, wrapping herself in a soft, absorbent cloth that quickly soaked up the water clinging to her skin.

The steam from the warm bath lingered in the air, fogging up the mirror on the wall. Gently, she placed her hand against the glass and wiped away the condensation. Her damp hair hung in unruly spikes around her face, and streaks of grime still clung to her cheeks in places she hadn't washed thoroughly. Perhaps the dirt had become so ingrained in her skin that it was now part of who she was: a Veneficii, with the earth on her cheeks and sometimes leaves in her hair. Even as a child, she'd leave muddy footprints in the streets as she ran home barefoot.

She scrubbed the dark streaks from her face and twisted her hair into a tight coil, letting the water drip out. Wrapped in her towel, she felt she could be anything. She had always been the kind of girl who relied on strength over charm, but as she studied her delicate features in the mirror, she allowed herself to imagine she could go far if she chose a different path.

Not that she ever would. Her gaze dropped to the floor, where she'd left her clothes when she undressed. To her dismay, they were gone. It didn't take her long to realize what had happened.

"Einar and Milena!" she bellowed repeatedly. But even as the warm mist cleared and a chill ran down her spine, no response came.

Annoyed, she glanced at the dress hanging on the ladder. Grumbling, Severa burrowed under the many layers of skirts, momentarily fearing she'd never find her way out.

Eventually, she found the top of the dress and slipped her arms through the delicate short sleeves. Pulling the gown into place, she turned back to the mirror. Her eyes wandered over her broad, muscular shoulders, a source of pride for her but now a reminder of Einar in a dress—not the image she'd hoped for. She snorted. In the end, strength would always triumph over charm.

A cold gust of wind swept through the washroom, stealing the last of the warmth. In the mirror's reflection, she saw Milena standing behind her. Milena's beauty left her pale with envy. The light blue dress she wore hugged her slender frame, emphasizing her narrow waist. Her flawless skin glowed, and her smile was one even King Balor would succumb to.