She seemed to relax at the warm touch of wind on her face.

Then her eyes found Reid, and the entire world faded to that blinding, soul-deep connection. Anyone could see it. Everyone could feel it. If I reached out a hand now, I sensed I could’ve touched it. Though I knew not of magic patterns, this thread that connected Lou and Reid—this gravitational pull, this cosmic one—it was a magic in itself. It pulled them together. It would keep them there.

He gazed at her with the most brilliant, devastating smile.

She blinked at the sight of it, her own slightly dazed, slightly awed, as Reid took in her ivory gown, her trailing sleeves, the rich flowers atop her long, loose hair. The scarred roses at her throat. Summer sun had gilded her skin once more. It burnished the freckles across her nose. When he stepped forward to take her hand, he brushed his lips across them, trying to kiss each one. “See something you like?” he murmured in her ear.

She eyed him appreciatively. “Let’s make this quick.”

Their vows were not traditional. Not this time. Nor was their ceremony. It ended just as the sun touched the mountains, its golden light lengthening the shadows of the grove. Fireflies winked into existence. Ever curious, feu follet soon followed, their eerie glow lighting a path through the gnarled trees. Twice, Beau snatched an inquisitive Gabrielle away from them, much to her indignation. “You rotten brother! I just want to see them!”

Her protests could barely be heard over the music.

Several more witches had trekked from the castle with mandolins, lutes, and lyres underarm. Others had brought wine. Indeed, most who’d remained at Chateau le Blanc gathered in the grove now, curious and wary. Though they gave Jean Luc and Father Achille a wide berth—and Elvire and Blaise too—no one lifted a hand against them. Toulouse even managed to charm a pretty young witch into dancing with him. Another asked Liana for a turn.

It took little for the rest to follow.

Except for Lasimonne, who—with a cry of “It has four legs!”—chased after Melisandre with abject fascination. The cat hissed and yowled and streaked toward the safety of the castle. With the roll of her eyes, Elvire continued to examine the flowers, taking a tentative bite of a peony. Pan swatted her hand away in horror. “No,” he said sternly, wagging his finger. “Absolutely not, ma douce. You come to Cesarine, and I will bake you something sweet, yes?”

Turning away, I watched Coco and Beau dance for one long, bittersweet moment. He said something to make her laugh—really laugh, the sort of laugh that transformed her entire face. The sound of it made him giddy. He twirled her closer next time, his attention rapt on her expression. Drinking in the sight. “I could do more than sail at the age of three,” he told her imperiously. “Sir D’artagnan Delmore le Devere taught me to dance as soon as I could walk.”

Unfortunately, he chose that moment to spin directly into Jean Luc and Célie. Jean Luc compensated seamlessly, twirling Célie outward with one hand while catching Coco’s waist with the other. Beau, who’d slipped on impact, reeled into a stump and nearly lost his footing. Jean Luc smirked. “Sir D’artagnan Delmore le Devere is my godfather, Your Majesty.”

Coco howled with laughter.

I hoped she never stopped laughing.

At the center of it all, Lou and Reid whirled with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. When she stepped on his toes for the third time—tipsy with drink—he swept her up in his arms and spun wildly, round and round until Lou shrieked with delight, tipping her head and urging him faster. He never lost his footing. He never loosened his grip.

He even joined her when she belted out “Big Titty Liddy.” Though both sang horribly off-key, all applauded their efforts when they’d finished, and Lou swept into a dramatic bow. Cheeks red, Reid chuckled and tried to move away—out of the limelight—but Lou pulled him back. “Wasn’t he marvelous?” She crowed the words with pride, cackling as his flush deepened. Madame Labelle whistled from Father Achille’s arm. “Everyone tell him how marvelous he is. Tell him how impressive.”

Shaking his head, he tucked her firmly into his side and dragged her toward the nearest stump. “You’re embarrassing me, wife.”

“Look how red your face is.” She cackled and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Just wait until the honeymoon—those few blissful days where I’ll have you all to myself.”

Reid smirked. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Your sisters can’t leave you alone for more than an hour.”

“That’s why we’re leaving the Chateau.”

He raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Oh,” she confirmed, matter-of-fact. “There’s an old cottage on the beach. It belonged to my grandmother. I’ve cleaned it out for the two of us.” She nuzzled his chest, much like her cat. “Coco can handle the castle without me.”

Reid shrugged, the corner of his mouth still quirked. “You’re probably right. She’s much more diplomatic.”

“Excuse you.” Lou elbowed him in the ribs in feigned outrage, raising her voice for the others to hear. “Should I tell them about your impressive foot size? What about those other marvelous things you can do with your tongue?”

Reid actually clapped a hand over her mouth.

Shoulders shaking, the two devolved into laughter as a wizened old woman hobbled into the grove.

I didn’t recognize her, but the others clearly did: Lou and Reid straightened, Coco and Beau stilled, and even Célie stepped closer to Jean Luc. Though none appeared outright alarmed, a definite current of tension had materialized with the woman. Curiously enough, Zenna smiled.

“Hello, dearies!” Bracelets clinked on the woman’s wrist as she waved gaily, heedless of her less-than-warm reception. Her scarlet robes billowed around her. “What a sublime evening for a wedding. And truly, you could not have chosen a more fortuitous locale.”

“Madame Sauvage.” Reid cast a quick, nervous glance toward Coco, Beau, and Célie. His next word sounded a question. “Welcome.”

Lou’s eyes narrowed. “How did you find this place?”

“Ah.” Madame Sauvage clasped Lou’s hands in her own, pressing a kiss to them. “Felicitations, my dear, on your recent nuptials. It seems I missed quite a delightful evening, and you, in turn, missed my winsome company.” Her clouded eyes lingered on the witch with the mandolin. “I trust you provided the correct designation this time? None of this Larue business?”