A moment of silence stretched between us. Then another. Outside, Father Achille still coordinated with Jean Luc. With Célie. They’d sent word to neighboring villages for supplies. For healers. Two had survived Morgane’s attack on the Tower, but they needed medical treatment themselves. At least, I thought they’d said two. Behind the counter, Pan bustled ostentatiously, banging every pot and slamming every utensil. “Double price,” he’d muttered at one point.

At last, Beau heaved a shattered sigh. His smirk had faded. His eyes gleamed anew. “What are we supposed to do now? The cathedral is destroyed. The castle too, by the looks of it. The Archbishop is dead, the king is dead, La Dame des Sorcières is dead—er, the old one, anyway.” He shot Lou an apologetic glance.

She shrugged stiffly, tracing the lines on my palm. “The Chateau remains standing. I suppose it’s mine now. We can . . . live there.” Her eyes flashed to Coco. “All of us.”

A wide smile spread across Coco’s face. “I don’t think Father Achille will give us any trouble.”

“If he’s elected.”

“He will be,” Beau said. “Father Gaspard nearly pissed down his leg when Morgane showed up. He’s a politician.” He jerked his head to the window. To Father Achille. “Not a leader.”

“Are you a leader, Beau?” Coco asked quietly.

He studied her for a moment, his lips pursed. Undecided. “I don’t know yet.”

She smirked at him. “We have that in common.”

“You can say that again,” Lou muttered. “I couldn’t manage an attic, let alone a fucking castle.”

We lapsed into silence until Célie poked her head into the patisserie once more. With a quick wave, she motioned me forward. I kissed Lou’s hand before rising to meet her. Jean Luc stood on the other side of the door. Leaning past me, he pushed it closed behind us, and Célie—she actually bounced on the balls of her feet. “I have something for you.” She spoke over me before I could answer. “When Jean Luc stole your items from the Tower, I chose not to keep it with the rest—your bandolier and knives and such—because it looked too important. I didn’t want you to lose it in the heat of the battle.”

Jean Luc nodded. “I told her it belonged to your mother.”

Realization sparked. Anticipation.

“Of course, when Lou enchanted our clothing, I thought I’d lost it.” She shook her head, grinning but frazzled. Reaching into the band at her waist, she extracted a familiar ring with a thin golden band and mother-of-pearl stone. It gleamed even in the grayish light. Her smile widened as she placed it in my hand. “Here. Do as you wish with it. It’s yours.”

I stared down at it in wonder. Warmth radiated through me at the point of contact. My heart pounded. “Thank you, Célie.”