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?”

Lou’s frown deepened, but she didn’t pull her hands away. “How do you know about that?”

Madame Sauvage ignored the question, instead turning to Reid. She pinched his cheek. “And you, young man? Did you plant those seeds as you promised?”

“I”—he looked again to Lou, more panicked now than before—“I’m sorry, Madame Sauvage, but I—I misplaced them.”

“You lost them, you mean?” When Reid nodded, she clicked her tongue in disappointment. I inched closer, studying her face. She seemed . . . familiar, somehow. Like I’d met her before. And her disappointment—I glanced around, uncertain—it felt staged. Zenna still smiled behind us, and that smile had spread to Seraphine, Toulouse, and Thierry. Madame Sauvage winked at them. “Well, Monsieur le Blanc, just how should we proceed? We made a bargain, you remember.”

Reid nodded grimly. “I’ll procure another pearl for you, madame. I promise.”

“You promised”—Madame Sauvage unfurled her fingers slowly, revealing a handful of seeds in her palm—“to plant the seeds.”

We all stared at them.

“How did you—?” Reid started.

Her dark eyes gleamed. Pressing the seeds into his hand, she said, “A fortuitous location, indeed. If you plant them—if you care for them—they will grow.” When Reid didn’t move, when he only studied the seeds with open suspicion, Madame Sauvage poked his chest. “Well, what are you waiting for? Do it now! I’m not getting any younger.”

“I don’t have a shovel—”

With an impatient sigh, Lou waved her hand, and the seeds flew outward in a sharp burst of magic, scattering across the grove. In the next second, they burrowed into the ground of their own accord. “There.” She thrust her arm through Reid’s. “Are we settled? Have we honored this ridiculous bargain?”

Trees burst from the ground as Madame Sauvage’s answer.

Pear trees.

They climbed skyward at a rapid pace, white blossoms blooming and falling to reveal hard green fruit. A dozen in all—one tree for each seed planted. Lou gasped as Reid stared, as Beau leapt backward, and Madame Labelle stretched incredulously to touch one of the low-hanging fruit. Shaking her head, she whirled to face the old woman. “Who are you?”

Madame Sauvage bowed, looking meaningfully at Lou. “A friend.”

She turned without another word, and as suddenly as she’d hobbled into our presence, she hobbled out, leaving only the peculiar scent of . . . of earth in her wake. Of fresh grass and pine sap and pears. Still smiling, Zenna, Seraphine, Toulouse, and Thierry followed after her.