This time, it was Perrault who clapped his hands over J.J.’s ears.

“Enough,” Hermódr bellowed, the only one of the boys to answer in English, and probably the only one not swearing up a storm.

Lang’s jaw hung slack. We’d hardly spoken since the first ball. But as he took in Torden and me—his tensed arm around my waist, me curled against his side—an odd pang of guilt rang through me.

I jutted a thumb over my shoulder toward the woods and glanced up at Torden. “Should we—?”

“Yes.” Torden nodded firmly. He threw another annoyed glance at Aleksei as we left the fires behind.

48

At first, our search turned up only bare branches and the sounds of laughter and bodies crashing through the brush. “The mistletoe near the bonfires will have been gathered up quickly,” Torden said, gently thumbing my knuckles. “We’ll have to search further in.”

Fewer and fewer people crossed our path as we walked on. Soon the only noises were our boots in the undergrowth and the creak of the lamp in Torden’s hand, its light sweeping the boughs of oaks and pear trees.

“There!” I suddenly whispered. From a clump of green overhead, white berries shone like moonstones in the dark.

Torden grinned. “Good eye. Here, take this.” He passed me the lamp and fit his boot into a cleft in the tree trunk, gripping a pair of low branches.

“What are you doing?”

He twisted to look at me. “How did you expect we would get the mistletoe down?”

“I don’t know. Not like that.” I wrung my hands. “Just be careful.”

Torden’s back and shoulders worked beneath his sleeves, pulling him easily from branch to branch. “Selah, I begin to suspect you consider most of my hobbies dangerous.” There was no mistaking the laugh in his voice.

I crossed my arms as well as I could while holding the lamp. “Like what?”

“Like climbing trees with knives in my belt.” I caught a flash of bronze and the snap of stems as he cut the mistletoe where it clung to the old oak. “But you can’t fuss over me. I insist on that rule if we get married.”

I bit my lip, fighting a smile. “Can I suggest others?”

“Such as?”

“Such as . . . no dead animals in our personal spaces?” I asked. “Time set aside just for reading?”

“More books and no taxidermy in our bedroom? I’ll consider it.” Something in my chest flared at the phrase our bedroom.

Torden dropped the last five feet from the tree and hit the ground with a thud. I started forward before drawing myself up. “Oh—sorry, I forgot. No fretting.” I leaned against a tree, setting the lamp down to examine my cuticles.