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.”