Do not worry, Louise. His injuries are not fatal. He will wake—of that, I am certain.

My head continued to throb.

The others walked toward the gates in silence, seemingly oblivious to our rather giant problem, except for Beau. He threw more than one anxious glance my way.

I assumed he expected me to transform into the Maiden at any moment. I half expected it myself. Even now, I wasn’t sure how I’d done it, but I took care not to think too long or too hard about that shiver in my skin—that heady sensation of wild abandon. Curiously enough, it reminded me of . . . rooftops. If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel the wind tangling in my hair, my arms stretching wide, as I propelled myself upward, outward, from shingles into empty air. Exhilaration swooped low in my stomach for those precious seconds. Those precious seconds when I might’ve flown.

When my hands began to ripple, my eyes snapped open.

Beau still stared at me.

“What is it?” I snapped. “Spit it out.”

“Are you okay? With”—he jerked his chin toward my hands—“that?”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Are you?”

He tipped his head, considering, before a fierce smile broke across his face. “I think it’s the most impressive fucking thing I’ve ever seen. You’re a . . . Lou, you’re a goddess now.”

“Goddess Divine.” I matched his smirk with one of my own, despite Isla’s words ringing loud and true in my ears. My sister chose wrong. “Queen of the sea urchins.”

His smirk vanished at the last, and he stared resolutely at the back of Elvire’s head. “About that. I . . . want to apologize.” He cleared his throat. “For earlier.”

“Ah.” I exhaled with a soft chuckle. “There’s no need.”

“There is a need—”

“You told the truth.”

“It wasn’t the truth.” He shook his head in agitation. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Isla, she—she twisted my words—” Clearing his throat, he tried again, lowering his voice so the others couldn’t hear. “I do find you extraordinary. Perhaps not extraordinarily brave or just or true, but extraordinary nonetheless.” When I rolled my eyes, politely skeptical, he stepped in front of me, forcing us both to a halt. “Who else would have accepted the spoiled son of a king? The misused aristocrat? The sacrilegious huntsman? In the eyes of the kingdom, we are nothing.” His voice dropped lower still. “You’ve given us all a place, a purpose, when before we didn’t have one. You are the reason we’re here, Lou. And I don’t care about the waters’ truth—you are my sister. Never forget it.”

He sped up to walk beside Coco and Célie without allowing me to answer. Probably for the best.

I couldn’t speak around the emotion in my throat.

When we finally reached the shores of L’Eau Mélancolique, the water supporting Reid burst—the last of Angelica’s magic falling away—and he collapsed upon the sand. I immediately dropped to my knees beside him. “Shit.” I checked his pulse again, pried open his eyelids to assess his pupils. All sounded and looked perfectly healthy.

Exhaling harshly, I poked him in the ribs. Nothing. I flicked his nose. Nothing again. I blew in his face, his eyes, unlaced his boot to tickle his foot, even slapped him smartly across the cheek. Nothing, nothing, nothing. My chest tightened with frustration as I dragged him to the water’s edge. When splashing his face yielded no results, I swore viciously and prepared to dunk his entire head—his entire body, if necessary—but Beau stopped me with an impatient hand. “I don’t think drowning him is an option.”

“It worked for me—”

“You’ve tried magic, I assume?” His eyes darted up the path and into the mountains. I didn’t blame him. Morgane and Josephine could’ve been watching us at this very moment. Still . . . as much as Isla had insisted she wouldn’t get involved, I doubted she’d forgive an attack on her people so quickly. Constantin had been under her protection. It would be a very brave witch indeed—or perhaps a very stupid one—who trespassed on these shores again. Morgane and Josephine were neither brave nor stupid.

Here, we were safe. For now.

“The patterns are in a knot.” I resisted the urge to snap at Beau again in light of his confession. It must’ve been hard to admit such things aloud. I appreciated them. “I can’t make any sense of it.”

Coco approached tentatively. “I could take some of his blood.”

My mind immediately recoiled from the idea. The last time Coco had taken blood, she’d foreseen Ansel’s death, and I’d had quite enough of misinterpreting the future.

“Angelica said—” Célie started, but I interrupted impatiently.

“We don’t have time for cryptic advice. He needs to wake now.”

Célie crouched beside me in response, placing a comforting hand on my back, and I felt like the world’s greatest ass.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I just don’t know what to do. If we don’t wake him, we can’t steal Angelica’s Ring, and if we don’t steal Angelica’s Ring, we can’t count on the melusines to join us against Morgane. Without the melusines—”

“I understand.” Her hand drew soothing circles. “At least Reid is all right. He is. Look at him.” Forcing my eyes open, I watched him breathe, each swell and fall of his chest a small comfort. Célie smiled. “Truly, he could be only sleeping. An enchanted sleep, perhaps, but—”

Her eyes flew wide.

“What?” I lurched upright. “What is it, Célie?”

“One of the stories my mother used to read me,” she said breathlessly, clapping her hands together. “It was about a princess cursed with eternal sleep. The only way to break the spell was the kiss of true love.”

Coco scoffed and threw herself on the sand. “That’s a fairy tale, Célie. It isn’t real.”

“We just bathed and dined and conversed underwater in the royal palace of melusines, where octopi walked on leashes and the Goddess of the Sea served us salted sea lettuce.” Célie’s cheeks burned pink. “None of this should be real.”

Beau arched a brow. “She makes a fair point.”

“Fine.” With a sigh of fatigue, Coco fell to her back, folding her hands on her chest. “Kiss him, then. Kiss him good. Just do it quickly. And when that inevitably fails, I’ll prick his finger, and we can make real progress.”

I looked between each of their expectant faces, feeling utterly ridiculous. True love’s kiss. Célie had apparently mistaken this nightmare for a sweeping romance, complete with the white knight charging in to save his fair maiden. I glared at Reid’s lips. To be fair, it had started that way, once upon a time. He’d crossed the entire kingdom to save me from Morgane’s sacrificial altar. Perhaps the roles could be reversed now that he was in need. And what real harm could there be in a kiss?

Exhaling hard through my nose, I gripped his shoulders and leaned over him.

Here goes nothing.

My lips brushed his in a light caress, and I parted them slowly, touching his tongue to mine. Just for a second. Just a single breath. My eyes fell closed at the simple joy of it—of kissing Reid. God, I missed him. For too long, our lives had been tangled yet separate, intrinsically linked yet forever apart. It was my fault. It was his too.