“Rua,” a voice called. Tilting her head backward, she looked to her right and saw Renwick shackled to the stone wall. His shirt was stripped off but he still wore his crumpled trousers from when they fell through the ice. Gods, Rua remembered it now. His hair and clothes seemed dried. Urgently scanning him for injuries, she saw no bruises marring his skin. “Where are we?” she murmured, looking down at the black silk slip she wore with horror—the same nightdress that the suraash wore in the Temple of Hunasht.
