“The tunnels shifted before,” I repeated for the dozenth time, wracking my thoughts for something—anything—I could’ve missed in our previous arguments. If I persuaded Coco, she could persuade Lou. I was sure of it. “Maybe they shifted again. Maybe Toulouse and Thierry are trapped in a secure passage, safe and whole.”

“And maybe Liana and Terrance turn into house cats on the full moon.” She didn’t bother lifting her head, her voice dangerously apathetic once more. “Forget it, Reid. Lou is right. This has to end. Her way is as good as any—better, even. At least we’re moving forward.”

“What was the point of gathering allies, then?” I fought to keep the frustration from my voice. “We can’t kill Morgane on our own.”

“We clearly can’t kill her with allies either.”

“So we find new ones! We return to Cesarine, and we strategize with Deveraux—”

“What exactly are you expecting him to do? Who are these mysterious allies you hope to find? Shall Claud just . . . grow them on trees?” Her eyes hardened. “He couldn’t save Ansel in La Mascarade des Crânes. He couldn’t even save his own family, which means he can’t help us either. He can’t kill Morgane. Face it, Reid. This is our path forward. We can’t search Cesarine for ghosts.”

I unclenched my jaw. Heat worked up my throat. I didn’t know what to do. “My mother isn’t a ghost.”

“Your mother can take care of herself.”

“Her life—”

“—depends entirely on how adeptly she can lie.” Beau strolled toward us casually from the church’s kitchen, pointing a lazy finger at the smoke-filled sky. “Our father will be desperate to end this fire, even if he must enlist a witch to do it. As long as the clouds quite literally hang above our heads, your mother is safe. Apologies for eavesdropping, by the way,” he added. “I wanted to know if either of you had noticed my new beard.” He paused. “Also, Lou hasn’t blinked in half an hour.”

I frowned. “What?”

“She hasn’t blinked,” he repeated, dropping to the ground beside Coco and lifting a hand to her nape. His fingers kneaded gently. “Not once. She’s spent the last thirty minutes staring at the stained glass in silence. It’s unsavory. She even managed to frighten the priest away.”

Unease pricked my stomach. “You timed her blinks?”

“You haven’t?” Beau arched a brow in disbelief. “She’s your wife—or lady friend, paramour, whatever label you’ve settled on. Something is clearly wrong with her, brother.”